Home is where the heart is…
by morgana-avalon
Summary: When Avery's life is in peril, Martin Riggs makes sure his captain is safe.


Home is where the heart is…

Part 1

Martin watched his captain closely; something was up, but so far, he'd failed to find out what was going on. All day long, Avery had received several visitors, walking in and out of his office with concerned looks on their faces. Most of those visitors were strangers, whom he'd never seen around before. Dressed in suits and carrying briefcases, they appeared to rank high in the chain of command. Even now, there was a lot of commotion going on in the captain's office, becoming apparent in the visitor's fast and frenzied gestures and worried expression. Riggs swore Avery was being lectured once or twice, which failed to impress the LAPD-captain.

That didn't surprise him. During the time he'd been working at the LAPD his captain had gained his respect. Avery put up with a lot of his bullshit; and except from getting a reprimanding look or an exasperated sigh, his superior was far more understanding than Martin had thought possible.

He knew he was trouble and still wondered why Avery, Murtaugh, and the rest put up with his antics. Martin wasn't going to question his luck though; he'd never expected it to last this long. Their willingness to make him a part of their team still came as a shock. He'd never seen that one coming.

Martin shifted in his chair, put his feet on the desk for good measure since he had a reputation to uphold, and continued his observations. Avery opened a desk drawer and removed several papers, among those a big, white envelope. He made out some writing on the front although, hold on, not writing exactly, seeing cut out letters from newspapers.

He cocked his head to get a better view and managed to confirm his first impression. Shivers ran down his spine, signaling trouble. Avery opened the envelop, removed another piece of paper and handed it to his visitor.

Moving his chair again, he noticed the paper wasn't purely white. Red stains and more cut out letters quickly gained his attention. Was that blood? For one second his facial features slipped, revealing worry, but then he quickly reined it in.

The visitor, a man wearing a tailored, blue suit, read the letter's content, and then stared at Avery in exasperation before launching in what had to be another reprimand. Avery stood motionless, staring out of the window, appearing unfazed. But he knew better than that. His captain was on edge.

His mind shifted gears, trying to figure out what was happening in there. Was Avery being threatened? He carefully considered the option, which he didn't like at all. Avery was a good captain; the older man had covered for him more than once and was too understanding for his own good. Had someone taken exception to that? Or maybe it was something completely else?

All papers vanished into the visitor's briefcase. They shook hands and then Avery let him out. He continued to watch his captain, who returned to staring blankly out of the window. That was rather uncharacteristic for the normally so active man. Avery thrived on action. For him to stand there idly was out of character. He filed away the information for later use and decided to keep an extra close eye on his captain. No one was going to hurt the guy.

/

That evening he worked late for a reason. Paperwork was a bitch and he wanted it done while he was still sober, since he had no idea what state he would be in the next morning. Keeping one eye on the screen in order to make sure his typing wasn't too fucked up, he managed to observe Avery as well.

His captain worked long hours too; he knew that, but most of the time Avery would leave around midnight and now he was still here at two AM. By the looks of it, the captain planned to stay even longer. Slaving over paperwork as well Avery appeared busy, but it was a ruse. He'd removed his suit jacket and his tie had come undone. His hair looked rather disheveled, which was a first. He couldn't recall the LAPD captain looking anything less than pristine. Avery's hand, which supported his chin in an attempt to keep it upright, slipped, and tired eyes tried to focus again.

Not good, not good at all. He didn't want to invade his captain's space or privacy, but Avery's exhaustion might affect work and that was never a good thing. As a regular cop, Martin knew he could get away with it. If he screwed up, he only hurt himself, but someone like Avery had to be on top of the game.

After privately discussing the matter for another minute, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He headed for Avery's office, but then slowed down, reconsidering and almost turning around. Whatever was going on it was being handled, he realized after recalling the numerous visits that day. The LAPD would take a threat to their captain extremely serious and better men than him were already looking into the matter. No reason to get involved and complicate the matter or wreck havoc. But then again… he cared about Avery and didn't want his captain to get hurt.

Damn, what was he supposed to do? In the end, his concern won and he knocked, giving Avery the chance to pretend his captain hadn't heard. In that case, he would return to his desk and finish his paperwork, which might take him long – at least until Avery went home himself. And maybe, he would follow Avery to make sure his captain didn't run into some scumbags. Yeah, great plan and he was rolling with it.

Avery didn't react, and Martin was about to turn around and give his captain his privacy, when he heard, "Come on in, Riggs." After drawing in what he hoped was a steadying breath, he opened the door and shuffled inside, carefully evaluating his captain's reaction. If his presence wasn't wanted, he would leave right away. "Cap," he said and waited, though he wasn't sure what for.

"Riggs." Brooks rubbed his temple and pinched his eyes, clearly fatigued and not quite up to dealing with Riggs' usual shenanigans. Studying his most troublesome detective, he wondered what the deal was with Riggs. He was quite adapt at reading people, but Riggs presented him with a daily challenge, one he didn't shy away from.

For some reason, he really liked Riggs. Maybe it went even deeper than that; he had a soft spot for the Texan, which would most certainly get him into trouble one day. He let Riggs get away with too much, just because he felt deeply for the guy. Ronnie Delgado had hinted that Riggs' history was tragic and the fact that the detective was even functioning (in whatever capacity) was a tribute to the man's character. Brooks respected that – a lot. "What did you destroy this time and where's your partner in crime?" Come to think of it, what was Riggs still doing at the precinct at this late hour? And where was Murtaugh? He depended on his former partner to keep an eye on Riggs.

Martin shrugged helplessly. "Why do people always expect the worst from me? I've been good! Just doing my paperwork and I've behaved myself for a change!" Which was the truth. Come to think of it, he hadn't had a single drop of liquor all day. His quick wit earned him a pleased smile and Martin caught himself smiling in turn. Not good. Avery often had that effect on him. At times it was hard to believe that the guy had ever been a street cop. That couldn't have been easy. He knew what it was like for gays in the force, or in the military for that matter. He'd witnessed enough harassment going done in the shower stalls and had intervened each time. He wasn't letting bullies get away with their behavior. He'd set them straight each time.

"Sorry," Brooks offered and gestured for his detective to take a seat, if Riggs wanted to. "It's quite rare to see you on your best behavior." The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. He didn't want Riggs to feel bad. He was about to soften that remark, when the Texan waved his hand dismissively and smiled at him. Oh boy, did Riggs know how to use that old, Texan charm whenever it suited him!

"Yeah, about that…" Martin ran his hand through his messy hair and tucked the most elusive strands safely behind an ear. "Sorry about the messes I get you in. I appreciate you having my back." And Roger's, of course. His entire life he'd had trouble expressing his emotions; most of the time he basically felt embarrassed for having them in the first place and ill at ease wording them. His upbringing had scarred him and he'd have ended up even more emotionally stunted if it hadn't been for Miranda. She'd saved him in so many ways.

Brooks could tell admitting that had been hard on Riggs. "Thanks," he said, simply acknowledging the sentiment and letting it go. Addressing the matter in depth and making Riggs talk about it, would only embarrass the ex Navy SEAL. Maybe he'd get a chance to really talk to Riggs somewhere down the line, but not right now. It was still too early for that. Riggs first needed to trust him and become comfortable around him.

Brooks smiled privately, recalling his initial reaction when Ronnie Delgado had asked him to accept the ex Navy SEAL into his department and to find him a suitable partner. Ronnie had told him bits and pieces about Riggs, and after promising the City Attorney to give Riggs a fair chance, he'd welcomed the Texan with some trepidation, as he'd expected Riggs to share the homophobia a lot of military officers and LAPD cops displayed towards him.

Upon accepting his new position as captain, Brooks had known there would be trouble. The police force was still a mostly male-oriented organization, and although women and ethnic minorities were becoming accepted, homosexuals would never be given that opportunity. He'd lost count of the times he'd been called names behind his back, ridiculed, or threatened to his face for his sexual orientation.

And so he'd expected Riggs to display a similarly nasty attitude, after all the guy was Texan and ex-military. But for Ronnie's sake, he'd kept an open mind. Ronnie Delgado often supported him and had had his back more than once. Still, Brooks was cautious upon meeting Riggs that first time. In the end, it turned he'd been worried for nothing.

Realizing Riggs didn't care about his sexual orientation came as a big surprise. It happened unintentionally. Todd called one evening, quite late, offering to pick him up for dinner. Accidently, Todd dialed the wrong number and ended up connected to the precinct instead with Riggs taking the call. Brooks was in his office at the time and froze upon finding out what happened, but Riggs merely told him that his partner was on the phone, asking how late to pick him up so they could have dinner together. Riggs was nothing but polite, and even winked conspiringly before heading back to his desk.

"Cap?"

Brooks shook himself and stretched. It was way too late to be talking to Riggs. He needed his wits about him when dealing with that emotional minefield! He briefly wondered what to say, what approach might work, and then shrugged. It was late and he was tired. "Is there something you want to discuss, Riggs?" But he would make time for his detective, as Riggs needed the support.

Martin, feeling ill at ease now that he wasn't sure what he was dealing with, pointed a finger at the older man. "Being captain involves working long hours, I get that, but shouldn't you be heading home?" He pointed at his wristwatch and smiled charmingly. "Even in case Todd is mad at you and makes you sleep on the couch, that couch is way more comfortable than getting back pain from being stuck behind your desk." Was he overstepping some boundary? Was he pushing it? Being disrespectful? Normally he wouldn't bring up Todd, as he respected Avery's privacy, but he needed to know what was going on. "No disrespect intended," he added quickly, just to make sure.

Brooks smiled, finally realizing why Riggs was here; his detective worried about him. He'd seen Riggs act like that around Roger. He even did it when Cahill seemed troubled or Cruz. Well, it appeared that brawny Texan cared about him too!

"No trouble in paradise," Brooks quickly clarified, "Todd's visiting his parents, so I'm trying to catch up on my paperwork. But you're right, it's late." Brooks leaned back in his chair and studied Riggs. Two could play that game. "So why are you still here then?" Looking closer, he realized Riggs seemed sober. Troubled, yes, and definitely haunted, but sober, which was interesting. Was Riggs going to answer him? Evade him or tell him the truth?

Martin felt shy, though he tried to cover it up. Normally he would go for a witty comeback, but not tonight. He felt exposed and tired. Sleep deprivation, nightmares, and alcohol were slowly killing him. "No one's waiting for me at home." The words slipped past his lips before he fully realized it and his lack of control caused him to cringe. He hadn't meant to let that slip. But Avery was right; he had to head home sooner or later. He couldn't stay here indefinitely.

Brooks drew in a deep breath; Riggs' honesty surprised him. Maybe it helped that it was just the two of them in here. He shifted forward on his chair, rested his hands on the desk, and tried to catch Riggs' gaze. It took time, as the Texan did his best to avoid eye contact, but in the end, their gazes locked, before Riggs quickly looked away again. Brooks hoped his next move wouldn't backfire on him, but Riggs looked truly lost and it caused him to reach out.

"Well, since Todd's away, I'm not looking forward to going home either. I've got a guestroom, so if you want to crash there…" Brooks didn't finish on purpose, trying to gauge Riggs' reaction. The offer finally registered with Riggs, as the detective's expression changed; emotions, ranging from fear to gratitude shone through before the Texan locked them away again. What the hell was that about? Brooks released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Hopefully Riggs didn't think he was being hit on!

Todd and he were in a committed, monogamous relationship and Riggs was as straight as they come, at least that was his impression. "No hidden agenda," he added, hoping to get his point across. A part of him hoped Riggs would accept. He hated being home alone and Riggs looked like he needed some decent sleep. Roger had mentioned finding Riggs in his trailer, passed out on a couch, surrounded by numerous empty bottles. Although, after what Riggs had been through in Iraq that couch was probably heaven. Still, it wouldn't hurt the man to sleep in a decent bed for a change!

Martin realized that he had been silent for too long when Avery added the no hidden agenda part. He twitched, knowing what conclusion Avery had reached. Well, he would deal with that first and then politely decline the offer. He didn't want to crash Avery's place the way he had taken to invading Roger's home. "Thanks," Martin said and forced himself to meet Avery's gaze, which revealed concern. "Don't worry, I know you're not hitting on me. Give me some credit, cap, though I must admit I'm flattered! It's been ages since a guy came on to me."

Brooks smiled, smelling a story now that Riggs wasn't pushing him away. "And when was that?" Genuinely curious, he hoped the Texan would indulge him.

"Well," Martin started, drawing it out for effect. Seeing the twinkle in Avery's eyes, he offered a dirty grin. "Not being hit on exactly," he clarified. "I was doing the hitting… I can't stand injustice or letting the bad guys get away with misconduct. Once or twice I walked in on my fellow SEALs trying to corner one of their own in the showers, trying to beat them up because of their sexual orientation. They ended up in hospital instead and hopefully learned their lesson. Doesn't matter to me who you're in love with or what body they're in."

Brooks nodded and slowly got to his feet. Knowing what he did about Riggs now hearing that no longer surprised him. He felt sorry for ever thinking badly about the ex Navy SEAL. "I'm sure they had it coming." He slipped into his jacket. He didn't know what made him do it, but he said it anyway. "My offer still stands. If you need a place to crash, you're welcome, with or without Todd being at home." Was it just his imagination or was Riggs actually reconsidering? The expression in those troubled eyes was hard to read, and in the end, he gave up.

Martin carefully considered his next step, keeping in mind that Avery was an easy victim if he was at home alone. If his captain was indeed being targeted, being in close vicinity would be to his advantage. He'd wanted to bring up the letter and the numerous visitors, but lacked the opportunity to do so. In the end, he hoped he made the right decision. "Give me a moment to get my stuff." Avery's eyes showed the man's surprise at having his offer accepted. Martin promptly ran his hand through his hair, turning away from his captain, and hoping Avery wouldn't address his change of heart.

Brooks watched Riggs practically flee the office and head for his desk. The Texan accepting his offer warmed his heart. Maybe he was slowly getting through to the troubled man.

TBC

Part 2

"Let's take my truck," Martin suggested, as it could be used for either offense or defense in case of an attack. They were in the parking lot, and ever since entering it, his senses warned him that something was wrong, very wrong! He kept scanning his surroundings, searching for anything out of place. Instinctively, his hand moved closer to his gun. Avery appeared on edge too. The captain also looked about and seemed uneasy.

"We can do that," Brooks agreed, unwilling to start an argument. He felt vulnerable in the parking lot. It wasn't that bad in his office, but out here, he made an easy target. Maybe he should tell Riggs what was going on? He disliked the fact that the detective had no idea what kind of danger he was placing himself in. What had made him invite Riggs over in the first place, endangering the Texan like that?

Martin opened the door and gestured for Avery to get inside, which the captain quickly did. While making his way around the truck, he continued to search the perimeter. Something was off. Someone was watching them. He quickly climbed behind the wheel, started the truck, and headed for the exit. A quick look at Avery told him his captain was equally alert. Taking his boss up on his offer and tagging along proved to be the right decision after all. Avery was in danger.

Riggs turned on the music, low, trying to create a more comfortable atmosphere, hoping his captain would relax and confide in him. Should he bring up the envelope? Mention his suspicions? Things would be much easier if Avery simply brought it up himself so they could discuss it. Damn, he was bad at dealing with such situations.

In the end, he decided not to push the matter. He kept looking in the side mirror though, needing to know if they were being followed, but he didn't see anything suspicious. Maybe who ever had been watching them knew Avery's home address and didn't need to follow the captain home? In that case, trouble might be waiting for them there. Well, no matter what, he was ready for it.

/

Riggs' driving wasn't as bad as Brooks had anticipated. During Riggs' short time with the LAPD, the Texan had caused numerous collisions and had crashed several police cars. This time they made it to his home without incidents for which he was grateful. The uptown neighborhood he lived at didn't seem to impress Riggs. Without instructions, the other man pulled up on the correct driveway, which meant… "You know my home address?"

Martin shrugged. Ever since he'd started to worry about his boss, he'd done some snooping. That also involved memorizing the captain's home address. Years of training and working in the field made sure he checked for anything suspicious, but while sitting in the truck his senses didn't pick up anything. They had gone mad back at the parking lot, but here, everything seemed in order. Maybe he could even grab a few hours of sleep before heading back to work tomorrow. Which meant driving back together since the captain's car was still at the precinct. "Some habits are hard to break," he said, recalling Avery's question, trying to make light of the situation. "I memorized it in case I need it. It happens."

Brooks decided to let it go. He opened the car door, got to his feet, and made his way over to his house. His home wasn't particularly fancy, but it was a nice house at which he truly felt at home. "Are you coming? I never had any complains about the bed in the guestroom. I've been told it's comfy!" He opened the door, dealt with the security system, and turned around. Riggs slowly made his way over to him, walking with purpose and always alert. Riggs might look tired, but he had the suspicion the trained Navy SEAL could go without sleep for quite some time without it hampering his performance.

"Couch is fine with me!" Martin stepped inside and memorized the code to the security system while Avery put it back on. That security system was a good thing, as long as it worked properly. Looking about, he felt out of place. Comfortable and cozy were the two words that came to him while following his boss into the kitchen. Avery seemed to have stayed down to earth. Nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive. He might be able to sleep here.

"Come on, I'll show you the guestroom," Brooks said while heading for the staircase. "It's on the first floor." Turning around, he found Riggs heading for the living room instead.

"As I said, couch will do. Didn't shower yet, cap! Don't want to mess up the bed!" He picked up a throw, draped it across the couch and grinned, recalling Roger doing the same when he'd crashed at his friend's place. He'd been in a bad way back then. He'd drunk too much and his demons had gotten too close, constantly telling him he'd cheated on Miranda and had to be punished for it. The guilt had nearly crushed him that evening. If Roger and Trish hadn't been there…

He dropped onto the couch and closed his eyes, pretending to go to sleep. "I'm fine, cap, don't worry about it. Go do your thing. Get some shuteye!" He pointed at the staircase and watched Avery's reaction from nearly closed eyes.

"Martin…"

Hearing his name in that particular tone when he least expected it threw him and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Am sleeping here," he whispered, hoping Avery would let it go. He was in no condition to deal with a captain who worried about him.

"I don't agree with you sleeping on the couch, but I'll let it go for now." It was two in the morning and they had to get up at six. He needed to get as much sleep as possible. "Sleep tight, Martin." He used Riggs' first name on purpose and the other man's expression told him hearing it affected him. Riggs knew how to hide behind his mask, but sometimes it slipped, and lately, it had been slipping more often.

"Night, cap." Demonstratively, he turned onto his side, pulled part of his jacket across his face and pretended dozing off.

Brooks shook his head, sighed a little saddened, and headed for the staircase after glancing at his houseguest from over his shoulder. Riggs' behavior shouldn't surprise him after everything he knew about the man, but somehow it still did. Survivor's guilt was crippling, he knew that, and it was slowly killing Riggs. He wasn't sure how and if he could help, but he was determined to try.

/

Martin waited until he was certain Avery was asleep. He straightened out his jacket, stretched, and got to work. He covered the downstairs first, checking doors and windows for tampering, and then searched for other ways potential attackers could get inside. Everything was in order though, which pleased him. Honestly, he didn't expect anything less from a cop, but Avery did spend most of his time behind a desk these days. Next, he sneaked up the staircase and ran another check, avoiding his captain's bedroom. Again, everything seemed secure and he finally relaxed.

After moving downstairs again and checking the street, which was empty and quiet, he debated making some coffee so he could stay awake for the rest of the night, but then decided against it. The house was secure and he felt at ease. No warning signals went off like at the precinct. He should get some sleep just in case the action went down tomorrow. Walking past the bar, the scotch called to him, but he fought down the urge to drink and drown his pain. Not tonight. He had to be sharp – just in case.

/

Brooks slept surprisingly well, especially considering the fact that some homophobic lunatic threatened to kill him. Maybe it had something to do with going to bed exhausted, or maybe it was because he wasn't alone in the house. At least, he assumed he wasn't. But with Riggs he was never sure what was going on.

He left the bed, took a long, hot shower and dressed in his favorite suit, the one Todd had picked. Ready for the day, he headed downstairs, wondering what state he would find Riggs in. Some part of him feared his detective had raided the bar. But upon entering the living room, he realized Riggs hadn't gotten drunk after all. The bar was untouched and the ex Navy SEAL was asleep on the floor. Frowning, he wondered what was up with that. The couch was comfortable; he'd fallen asleep on it more than once. So what was Riggs doing on the floor?

Todd would have called Riggs adorable, which made him grin, and he had to admit the Texan did possess some charm. But it was a different kind of charm, maybe even child-like in nature. When Todd and he had tried adopting, he'd read several books on parenting. Maybe that was why he noticed the child-like manners Riggs displayed at times.

Well, it was time to get breakfast started. He decided against waking his guest just yet and headed into the kitchen. Riggs was a cop and the smell of freshly brewed coffee would wake him up.

/

_"Little rabbit, I'll find you and when I do, you'll regret running away!"_

_Hearing his father's agitated voice made it clear in how much trouble he was. He hid between the bushes, using trees and shrubbery for cover, but his father would eventually find him. This improvised shelter wasn't going to fool his father. He had to get to his hideaway. The old, worn down car was perfect for hiding. He only needed to get there and then slip into safety, but Nathan Riggs blocked his path._

_"Junior, I'll find you!"_

_His dad was dead drunk; his horrible leather belt wrapped around the knuckles of his left hand and carrying his favorite rifle in the other. Things had always been bad at home, but since his mother had died, his father no longer held back. He still sported a large collection of spectacular bruises due to the last beating he'd received at his father's hands. _

_He was trapped. He couldn't get to the car and tracking back to the house was a bad idea. There were no places to hide back there. Maybe he could climb that tree?_

_"I see you, boy! Come over here and face the consequences!"_

_The blood in his veins ran cold. His father's voice was suddenly so very close… Turning about, he realized he'd been careless. His dad had sneaked up on him from behind and that large hand already reached for him. Fear froze him to the spot. Terror swept through him the moment his father grabbed his hair and dragged him onto the ground, immediately kicking him in the abdomen. _

_"Don't say I didn't warn you, son. You only have yourself to blame for making me do this!"_

_He wrapped his arms around his head, trying to protect himself, but the blows and kicks were precise and immense anger fueled them. Once his father's rage burned itself out, he simply lay there, wondering how he was still alive. His body twitched uncontrollably and then the beating started all over again._

_/_

Ten minutes later, Brooks carried two mugs into the living room and put them onto the coffee table, watching as Riggs' sleep turned increasingly restless. The messed up hair hid most of the face, something which he suspected was tactic. The man on the floor twitched, just a little at first, but then he started to shake all over his body before tightly curling up in the fetal position. Riggs' pleading was too soft to make out words and he couldn't help growing worried.

If Riggs was having a nightmare, and it certainly looked like it, waking him up might help. But he wasn't going to approach or attempt touching him. No, he wasn't that stupid. "Riggs, wake up, breakfast's ready," he said in a loud voice while keeping his distance. "Riggs!"

His training kicked in and Martin cautiously opened one eye, trying to figure out where he was and what was happening. Part of him was still trapped within the nightmare and wondering who was talking to him. That wasn't his father's voice!

"Riggs, what's going on? Should I be worried?"

Raising his head slightly and looking about, he realized he wasn't buried in leaves or being pressed down on the forest ground. He was in a house, and on a floor instead. Not surprising, not for him, but he didn't recognize the carpet. The lingering nightmare made focusing on reality challenging, but in the end, he managed.

What had happened? Where was he? He wasn't at his trailer, that much was certain. Carefully opening the other eye as well, he was surprised he didn't have a hangover, which was rare these days. So why was he passed out on the floor if he hadn't drunk himself into oblivion? Had the nightmare dragged him down anyway, paralyzing him? Feeling anxious, he smoothed his hair away from his face and finally managed to calm down.

"Martin, are you awake?" Monitoring his guest's movements, Brooks concluded he was safe from any attacks brought on by nightmares. He picked up a mug and sat down on the couch, close enough to hand Riggs the coffee, but still at a safe distance. What was going on? What had that nightmare been about and did Riggs have them often? The younger man looked genuinely stunned, maybe even scared and seeing it worried him.

The smell of coffee helped Martin focus and he nodded gratefully while wrapping his cold fingers around the hot mug, which his captain handed him. Hold on – his captain? What was he doing at Avery's place? It frightened him that he didn't know. "Thanks, just what I need," he said, trying to act normally and hoping Avery would let it go. Forcing the reminder of the nightmare into the deep recesses of his mind, he managed to focus on the present.

Everything came back to him then. The envelope, the letters, the suspicious visitors Avery had in his office yesterday, and his instincts kicking in at the parking lot. His mission was to ensure his captain's safety and his son of a bitch of a father had to wait. He had to deal with the current threat first. Which meant gaining Avery's trust and making the other man confide in him. Pushing his boss into revealing what was going on wouldn't get him anywhere. He had to do this on Avery's terms.

Brooks watched his guest sip his coffee and noticed the way Riggs' body kept twitching. It lasted another minute, then it stopped. That had been one hell of a nightmare, but he wasn't going to question the Texan. Riggs would open up, or not, when he was ready to confide in him. "I've got breakfast ready in the kitchen. Want some?" Riggs' growling stomach answered his question.

"Sorry, forgot to eat dinner last night." Truth be told, he didn't remember the last time he ate. Maybe at Murtaugh's place the other day? Most days, he forgot to eat because he rarely felt hungry because of all the alcohol he consumed. Eating wasn't a priority anyway, not anymore. Not since Miranda. To make things even worse, these nightmares about his father were occurring more often, slowly driving him insane.

Concern coursed through Brooks as he watched Riggs stumble to his feet, obviously trying not to spill any coffee on the carpet. Truth be told, he didn't care about stains. At that moment, he realized why Roger worried so much about Riggs. "This way," he said, guiding his guest toward the kitchen.

Martin knew where it was situated. Last night he'd committed the house's layout to memory. Obediently, he followed his captain over to the kitchen table. Scrambled egg, toast, bacon, even some fruit awaited him and were those sausages? "I had you picked for a milk and cereal guy," he admitted as he sat down and forced down some food. He didn't feel like it, but had to eat, needed to fuel his body if he wanted to keep going. He couldn't let his father win.

"When was the last time you ate?" Nursing his coffee, Brooks watched his guest closely. Todd and he had eventually abandoned the idea of adopting after realizing their absurd working hours didn't allow them to properly take care of a child. Letting it go had hurt, but it had been the right thing to do. He had little experience being a dad as it was, as his mother had raised him on her own. His father had left the moment the man found out she was pregnant.

"I have no idea," Martin admitted, shocked he was being honest. What was going on? Normally he would crack a joke, but he hadn't even thought about evading the answer. Avery was breaking through his defenses and that scared the hell out of him. Additionally the fucking nightmares made it even harder for him to focus.

Maybe a father figure was exactly what Riggs needed. To Brooks, that thought made sense. Well, maybe he could help. He waited till Riggs had eaten his fill and had downed a second mug of coffee. Riggs needed a shower, but they didn't have time for that. He doubted his guest would accept a clean set of clothes anyway. Todd's would fit Riggs.

His eyes fastened on the clock above the kitchen table, making Martin realize they were running late. "We should get going," he said, while getting to his feet. He was about to head for the doorway, when his manners kicked in; his mother had taught him those before she'd killed herself. "I'll help clean up first."

Riggs' sudden thoughtfulness puzzled Brooks, who didn't expect it. "Don't worry about it. I've got a help, she'll handle it." At first, he'd felt guilty for hiring help, but since Todd and he both worked odd hours, it turned out to be the perfect solution. His mother, a hard-working single parent, would probably kick his ass had she still been alive today, but she'd passed away last year. She'd taught him to pick up after himself and her lessons had stuck with him.

"A help? Fancy, imagine that!" Martin quipped and grinned, finally able to slip behind the safety of his usual facade. Having someone to share breakfast with had helped, if he was being honest.

TBC

Part 3

They attracted strange looks upon driving into the parking lot, and later, while heading upstairs together. Martin carefully searched their expressions and memorized several unfriendly faces. He'd never given Avery's position as captain much thought, but the fact that there was still so much hatred towards gay cops had to be hard on the man. A lot of them preferred to stay in the closet because it was safer for them and their families. It made him wonder if Avery had been outed or had taken that step himself.

Brooks did his best to ignore the looks they got. Dealing with homophobia was never easy, and although he'd developed a thick skin, the hatred directed at him would never completely go away. It was something he dealt with on an almost daily basis, and since those threats had started to arrive, he was even more aware of the dangerous position he was in.

Martin quickly detoured upon seeing Ronnie Delgado in Avery's office, not up to dealing with the other man first thing in the morning. Last night's nightmares had left him unbalanced and keeping his distance was best. Ronnie and he talked occasionally, but only when he felt up to it. He'd made it clear that he didn't want anyone at the LAPD to know that they were related. As far as he was concerned Miranda's death had ended that relationship. Ronnie however, strongly disagreed and kept contacting him, something which frustrated him.

This time however, he might use their relationship to his advantage, knowing that Ronnie Delgado could supply him with valuable information regarding the threats Avery received. "Catch you later, cap," were his parting words, as he quickly headed for the break room and congratulated himself on averting that particular disaster. Ronnie really should stop caring that much about him!

Brooks arched an eyebrow at Riggs' hasty retreat, but didn't get a chance to find out what was going on, as he caught sight of the City Attorney pacing his office. The look on the other man's face spelled trouble and Brooks realized he might have another lecture coming for not taking the matter seriously.

Most of the time Ronnie Delgado and he got along just fine. He even considered them friends, something he hadn't expected to happen. Delgado was a known hardliner, and in the beginning he hadn't known where the City Attorney stood regarding working together with a gay LAPD captain.

Well, it was better to face the music and tackle his problems before Ronnie blew them out of proportion. "Ronnie," Brooks said upon entering his office and shaking his friend's hand. "What brings you here today?" The last time Ronnie Delgado had shown up this unexpectedly was when the City Attorney had wanted some information on Riggs. That been out of character. The City Attorney had never bothered checking up on a transferred cop before, even if said cop had come to the LAPD at his request. Now that he came to think about it, he realized something was going on with Ronnie and Riggs, and he should find out what it was.

"Brooks, we need to talk."

He knew that tone. Ronnie was here on business then. Brooks sat down behind his desk, feeling more comfortable that way. Ronnie took to pacing the room again and appeared to search for words. The other man's impatient pace got on his nerves and he called his friend on it. "Just say it, Ronnie." Was this about Riggs or something else?

"You need to take these threats seriously, Brooks." Ronnie came to a halt in front of the desk and gave his friend a hard stare.

Ah, not Riggs. "Ronnie, look here, we don't even know if this is a serious threat. I got some letters, yes. And the sender threatens to kill me. But come on, you know this isn't the first time. We've been down this road before and nothing ever happened. That's all it is; threats. Don't make a big deal out of this, Ronnie." He appreciated his friend's concern, but felt Ronnie overreacted. He was a cop for crying out loud! He could take care of himself.

Ronnie sat down, crossed his arms defiantly and gave his friend a pleading look. "Brooks, just because no one ever carried out those threats, doesn't mean we shouldn't take this seriously. All it takes is one lunatic determined to kill you and you're dead. I'm worried!" During the time they'd worked together, he'd come to respect Brooks and even cared for him as a friend. The fact that Brooks had given Martin a chance and was still helping his son in law fit in meant a lot to Ronnie.

"And I appreciate it," Brooks replied, honestly honored that his friend worried about him. "But there's no reason to believe that this poses a serious threat. But, at your request, I reported it. They're looking into it." He'd only reported it because Ronnie had pressured him into doing it.

The City Attorney had been present when he'd received and then opened one of the notes. In retrospect, he should have waited for Ronnie to leave, but he'd completely forgotten about his presence when the note had arrived. That was how Ronnie Delgado had found out about the threats. It was time for damage control and to reassure his friend. "I'm safe here, Ronnie. This is the very heart of the LAPD. Do you really think anyone is going to kill me here?" They would be mad if they tried, stuck in a building filled with cops. It would be a suicide mission on the shooter's part.

"What about at home? Or on your way over there?" Ronnie countered, trying to convince his friend. "Brooks, don't underestimate this. You know hate crimes happen every day and the police force isn't immune." He made it a point to keep up to date with the hate crimes going on in the LAPD.

Feeling frustrated, Brooks nodded at his friend. Did Ronnie think he didn't know that? He'd dealt with hate crimes most of his life. "I know that, Ronnie, I really do. But don't forget I'm a cop. I carry a gun and know how to use it. I can defend myself if necessary. I'm no easy, vulnerable victim." He got to his feet, moved over to his friend, and leaned against the desk. "Ronnie, they're checking on the threats as we speak and that's all we can do. You have to be patient. There's no instant fix and you know it." Ronnie cared, Brooks reminded himself. That was why the older man was overreacting.

"What if this lunatic makes his move when you least expect it? It might be too late then! We have to act now!" Ronnie glared at his friend. Brooks' calm drove him insane.

Brooks knew that look; Ronnie respected him and considered him a friend, but the City Attorney also thought him extremely pig-headed. "You'll see, Ronnie, there's nothing to worry about." If only he could take away Ronnie's concern. Ronnie didn't understand that these threats happened on a regular base; that was why he remained calm. He'd been down this road countless times before.

/

"Riggs? Earth to Riggs!" Why was his partner ignoring him? Roger counted to ten and tried to stay calm, but Riggs made that hard!

Martin was tempted to tell Roger to be quiet, as he was busy watching the heated exchange going on in the captain's office. He needed to concentrate and Roger was distracting him. He sucked at lip reading, which made things even harder. He desperately wanted to know what that discussion was about. Five minutes later Ronnie left Avery's office and the show was over. Thankfully Ronnie didn't see him as his father in law headed for the elevator. He would call Ronnie later and see what he could find out. He had to know what they were up against.

"Riggs? What's going on? You're being remarkably quiet – focused even." Roger didn't know what to make of the situation. While Avery and Delgado had talked, Riggs had ignored him, which had irked him at first. But then, looking at his former partner's body language, he realized something bad had happened. Avery had been on the defense and Delgado clearly displeased. "What's happening?"

"Someone's targeting our captain. He's receiving threats, and last night, someone was definitely lying in wait for him." He moved his chair about, watching Roger instead of Avery. Not in the mood to pretend or put on an act, he opted for the truth. "You know Avery best. He's your former partner. Does he have a lot of enemies?" He chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Let me rephrase that, except for the usual enemies a police captain has?"

Now that he knew what was going on, Roger carefully considered the question before blurting out an answer. His former partner was being threatened? "Enemies on the inside, you mean?" Riggs' nod confirmed his suspicions. "He deserved to be made captain. He was the best choice and no one protested when he was promoted. The only thing is…" Roger cringed, hating the fact that his friend and former partner always seemed to be reduced to this one thing, at least where some cops were concerned.

"His sexual orientation." Martin shared the obvious disapproval he read on Roger's face. Someone's sexual orientation shouldn't matter. Their work ethic did! "I'll never understand why it's such a big deal to some people." While in the military he'd seen it happen way too often. Young recruits, gay or only perceived as such, being cornered, threatened, and in the worst case brutally beaten up or abused. He'd hated it and intervened each time it had happened. Even 'looking gay' had triggered attacks.

"No jokes or witty comebacks," Roger observed, a bit mystified by his partner's serious demeanor. He liked it though and approved of Riggs' current attitude.

"It shouldn't matter whom you love, Rog. It really shouldn't. It's not like we pick the person we fall in love with. It just happens." Damn, it was way too early to start drinking, but he could use some scotch. Too bad he couldn't give into that compulsion at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if Avery was killed because he'd been too drunk to shoot the perp. "All right, Rog. Do we have a case or are we doing paperwork all day long?" It was time for a distraction and to direct his friend's attention elsewhere.

"Looks like paperwork, but maybe we get lucky and a corpse shows up," Roger replied, letting it go for now.

"That sounds so wrong!" Martin quipped and uncovered his phone. He had put off calling Ronnie for many reasons, but now that he needed information, he was going to take the plunge.

/

Martin drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and approached the table Ronnie occupied. He'd texted his father in law earlier, asking for a meeting, but hadn't told him why. Ronnie had accepted at once.

This was going to be rough; dealing with raw emotions always was and so he put on his façade, even though Ronnie was experienced at seeing right through him and would, if necessary, call him on it. He told himself to get it over with. "Hey, Ronnie, thanks for coming." He sat down and removed his sun glasses. He would have preferred to keep them on, but it wouldn't do not to look Ronnie in the eye while asking the man for a favor.

"Marty, it's good to see you! I had to check my phone twice to make sure it really was you texting me!" Ronnie placed his hand on his son in law's and gently squeezed. Ronnie actually felt relieved at realizing Martin was sober for a change. He'd heard a lot of gossip which painted Martin in a bad light. Maybe people had exaggerated and things weren't that bad. Then again, he realized, maybe he was fooling himself because then it might hurt less. Losing Miranda had broken his heart, but now he faced losing Martin too and that hurt. "Want some coffee? Or something to eat?" Ronnie offered, hoping having a meal might keep Martin around. A quick conversation was better than none at all, but he desperately wanted to spend time with him and if possible, help.

Martin faked a smile at the waitress and was about to dismiss Ronnie's offer when he changed his mind. "Coffee, black and a turkey sandwich," he ordered. Ronnie gave him a surprised look and he felt embarrassed, knowing he hadn't been on his best behavior lately. "What? I'm hungry." It was going to be a long evening since he planned on tailing Avery and keeping close. The caffeine was more than welcome and he needed to eat in order to keep going. He could be sensible, if needed.

"Coffee, Marty? Really?" Ronnie had a hard time believing this. He'd expected to find an emotional wreck sitting opposite him. Instead, Martin seemed focused. He welcomed the change, but wondered what had brought it on.

"Need to keep my wits about me." He nodded at the waitress and sipped from his coffee. It was time to get this show on the road, after all, he was here for a reason. Best to focus on that. "Sorry to bother you, Ronnie, but I need some information." He quickly looked elsewhere after uttering those words, knowing Ronnie had hoped to hear something different – something personal, and probably involving those damn emotions Cahill always went on about.

Ronnie berated himself for being disappointed. Martin having an ulterior motive for meeting him shouldn't surprise him. He knew him better by now. His son in law didn't do emotional conversations. Getting Martin to talk about anything personal was like pulling teeth. But the younger man had contacted him and that counted for something. Apparently the radio silence was over and communication, no matter how fragile, was back on. "What do you want to know, Marty? "He'd do anything to keep the lines of communication between them open.

"Avery." Martin finished his coffee and watched Ronnie signal the waitress for a refill. "Thanks, man." Attempting to cover up his embarrassment, he scratched his ear and then moved his unruly hair out of his line of sight. He really should get a haircut; all that hair would get him in killed one day.

"What about Avery?" Ronnie waited for the waitress to replace Martin's coffee and then met his son in law's gaze, at once identifying the confusion and embarrassment in those brown eyes. He'd learned to read Martin Riggs a long time ago; realizing it was all in the eyes. If you looked closely enough it was all there.

"Is he in danger? Is he being threatened – a target? I've been watching him and something's wrong." If Ronnie knew what was going on, he wouldn't have to explain himself further. His sandwich arrived and he quickly tucked into it. Being in the military had taught him one thing; to eat when you got the chance because you never knew when the next meal came around.

"What do you know?" Ronnie wasn't sure confiding in Martin was the right thing to do. His son in law tended to tackle dangerous situations in his very own way, and more often than not, it got Martin in trouble. His son in law cared deeply, and when his friends and family were in danger, he would put himself in between them and said danger, often ending up injured because of it. He'd tried talking to his son in law about that tendency, but Martin had dismissed it. Martin didn't mind getting hurt, as long as his loved ones were safe.

"Last night, I worked late and we ended up driving home together," Martin explained, carefully choosing his words. "Someone watched us. We weren't alone in the parking lot. Someone was lying in wait. I'm not important, but the captain is."

Ronnie believed him. If Martin said they'd been watched, he trusted that observation. The ex Navy SEAL had proven his worth time and time again and his instincts were uncanny. It made him such a good cop and it was the reason why he'd survived Iraq. He considered his options. Brooks Avery was a good friend and maybe if Martin had a case to focus on, he'd forget his own trouble for a short while. "Information like that is confidential, you know that." But he'd already made up his mind, especially since Brooks remained stubborn and refused to take the threat seriously.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Martin admitted and finished his sandwich. "But if he's being targeted I can keep him safe."

Ronnie nodded. "Yes, someone wants to kill him. He's been getting threats for a week now. They're fairly graphic and have grown worse. Someone wants to kill him and enjoys sharing every detail of how to accomplish that."

"Hate crime?" Martin knew how to read between the lines. Ronnie was holding back.

"Maybe. The threats point in that direction as they target "the gay faggot running Homicide". Their words, not mine. And that's not the worst. As I said earlier, they're fairly graphic."

Ronnie didn't need to spell it out to him. Martin had heard it all before. "Well, it's not happening on my watch." He'd find the bastards responsible and hunt them down. Even more, he'd enjoy doing so!

Ronnie reached for Martin's hand again and wrapped his fingers around the clammy, cold limb. "Marty, look at me." He waited for the younger man to gingerly make eye contact and smiled reassuringly. "I have faith in you, you know that. If anyone can keep Avery safe it's you, but please be careful. Don't let your emotions get the better of you. I don't want you to get hurt in the process."

He wanted to pull away his hand, but then reconsidered. The touch felt good, even though letting Ronnie get this close to him scared him. He allowed the contact for another moment, but then removed his hand in an attempt to create more emotional distance. He didn't know how to deal with the older man's obvious concern. "I know you mean well, Ronnie, but I can't, not yet." Perhaps never. He was too used to shoving down his pain and drowning it with booze.

"Just remember you're not alone, son. You're family, Marty. My family."

Ronnie's sincere tone got to him and he wanted nothing more than to run away and get dead drunk, but he couldn't. Not with his captain's life on the line. He wanted to remind Ronnie that Miranda had been family and that he'd been a temporary guest at best, but Ronnie had heard all that crap before and dismissed it each time he brought it up. "Thanks," he whispered eventually. His emotions were all over the place and tonight was going to be hard on him. For Avery's sake he'd keep it together though, for how long, he didn't know. He avoided eye contact as he left the little restaurant. Looking to the right, a liquor store called out to him, but he shook his head and resolutely turned around. Not tonight, but soon.

/

Roger had no idea how Riggs had gotten his hands on this particular information, but if his partner said Avery was in trouble, he believed it. "So what's your plan?" Like Riggs, he kept checking on their captain, who was acting like nothing was wrong and going about his business as usual.

"Well, I won't make it to dinner tonight so please excuse me to Trish. I hope she won't be too mad." That was one fierce lady and he respected the hell out of her!

"And why is that?" Roger leaned back in his chair and stared at his partner, who remained a mystery. Each time he thought he'd solved a piece of the puzzle, Riggs proved him wrong.

"I'll keep an eye on the cap. I know where he lives. You go home and have dinner with your family. I'll be busy." Roger's expression changed, making him cringe.

"I want in."

"Not necessary," he replied. There was no reason to involve Roger just yet. Maybe he'd call if he needed backup, but he wasn't sure about that either. He didn't yet know who they were up against. "I'll call if I need help," he said in an effort to appease Roger and get him off his back. Homophobes might easily turn out to be racist too and he wasn't going to endanger his partner. He'd rather do this on his own. That way he was the only one getting hurt.

"You WILL call if you need back up?" Roger gave his partner THE look, letting Riggs know he meant business.

"Yeah, I promise, Rog, Damn, it hurts that you don't trust me!" he exclaimed in an overly dramatic tone, trying to distract his partner.

Roger shook his head, collected his coat, and headed for the elevator. "You'd better call, Riggs!" He wouldn't have left if it hadn't been for Trish's demand that morning he came home and had dinner with them. He'd missed too many family dinners and wanted to make it up to them.

"I've got this, Rog!" Avery was in good hands with him. He wouldn't let the man get hurt!

TBC

Part 4

This was odd. Riggs was still at his desk, and Brooks was quite certain the other man was merely pretending to do his paperwork, while in reality the detective was watching him instead. Had Ronnie's visit tipped him off? Riggs was a good cop, one of the best he'd ever seen, and he might have realized what was happening. Did Riggs know how to read lips? If that was the case… but no, he didn't think so. He shouldn't be that paranoid!

How was he going to handle this? Riggs was still here for a reason. Hold on, that was why the other man had stayed late yesterday? Riggs was watching out for him? He should feel flattered, but the realization worried him instead, as he didn't want the ex Navy SEAL to place himself in the line of fire, and that was exactly what Riggs usually did. That Riggs wanted to look out for him didn't surprise him. Not after everything he'd learned about the Texan. Riggs had started to bond with them, even though the man would never admit it.

What should he do next? He didn't want Riggs tailing him and posting near his house. Another piece of the puzzle moved into the place. Of course, that was why Riggs had accompanied him home yesterday! During the night he'd woken and he'd been quite certain he'd heard Riggs moving through the house. At the time he hadn't given it much thought, but now he realized what Riggs had been up. The man was an ex Navy SEAL and he'd been checking out his home's security measures. Why hadn't he realized that before? It was obvious that somehow Riggs had found out about the threats.

It was near midnight and he wasn't going to last much longer. Riggs hadn't gotten much sleep last night either and he quickly decided on a course of action. He was going to do this his way. He picked up his suit jacket, slipped into it, and noticed his detective coming to life as well, getting ready to move, which confirmed his suspicions. The moment he left, he'd have a shadow and that wouldn't do.

He switched off the lights and headed toward Riggs' desk. The Texan immediately tried to move out of sight, but he wouldn't allow that. "Riggs, why are you still here?" The younger man didn't disappoint him, acting all innocent and pretending ignorance, just as Brooks had expected he would.

"I can ask you the same thing, cap. Burning the midnight oil again? Can you see what I did there? Midnight oil and it's almost midnight!" He congratulated himself on the witty comeback and hoped it would distract Avery. His captain suddenly leaving his office had taken him by surprise.

Brooks was becoming more adept at seeing the man hiding behind the mask, but was careful not to let it show. He didn't want to alienate him. "Very funny, Riggs. Go home and get some sleep!"

"Can't," Martin said, acting all innocent so he could put his plan into motion. "Dog peed all over my trailer. Got to clean it first. Stinks like hell!" Would Avery take pity on him and invite him to tag along like last night? That way he would be close and could protect his captain. He hoped his plan worked for it would make guarding Avery a lot easier.

Avery feigned ignorance, but knew exactly what Riggs was up to, and strangely enough, he was fine with it. He didn't mind letting the younger man stay the night at his house. That way Riggs got a decent breakfast in the morning and hopefully more sleep. "Well, Todd's still away. I take it you'll crash on the floor again? Or maybe live a little, and opt for the couch instead. By the way, the guestroom is still available too," he said, injecting a little humor of his own.

Pleased his plan had worked, he grinned. "Don't know how I ended up on the floor. I went to sleep on the couch. Must have rolled off without noticing. So couch is fine with me, cap!" Yes, the first part of his plan had worked. Now it was time to implement the second part. "Want to ride together again?" Hopefully Avery would let him drive the truck home, as it carried a neat little selection of his favorite fire weapons, which he might need in a case of an attack.

"Sure," Brooks whispered and took in the detective's smug grin. Riggs cared, he reminded himself. That was why the Texan acted that way. "Come on, let's go." He planned on making them a little something to eat before going to sleep. Riggs didn't need to be told twice and energetically jumped to his feet.

Falling into step with his detective, Brooks peeked at Riggs' eyes and found the man stone-cold sober again. That was the second day Riggs went without booze; apparently the younger man took the threat to his life extremely serious, much like Ronnie. Maybe he should do the same, but he'd been in this situation way too many times before. Both Ronnie Delgado and Martin Riggs were overreacting as far as he was concerned.

Martin headed for his truck, a bit surprised his captain followed his lead, but he wasn't questioning his luck. Like yesterday, he felt watched. The hair at the back of his neck bristled and shivers ran down his spine, which usually spelled trouble. His hand slid closer to his gun, just in case they were attacked.

Avery looked over at his car, making sure it was still there, and came to a stop. Someone had slashed his tires, and by the looks of it, all four of them. "Not again," he whispered, frustration slipping into his voice. How many times had that happened before? Too many to count.

Martin caught his captain's muttering and followed the direction of Avery's stare. He winced slightly at seeing the damage. If someone had done that to his truck, he would be fucking mad. Avery's facial expression was a mix of disappointment, anger, and frustration, but he didn't see any fear. Good, his boss wasn't easily intimidated. "Looks like you pissed someone off, cap." But he knew it was more than that. This wasn't vandalism, but intimidation. Someone was sending a message.

"I can't please everyone, I'm afraid," Brooks deadpanned and uncovered his phone to call it in. Forensics might want to have a look and then the car had to be towed.

"Good thing we still got my truck." Martin kept glancing about, still feeling eyes on them. Whoever had damaged Avery's car wanted to see their reaction. However, his boss wasn't giving them the reaction they wanted, staying calm and in control instead.

After finishing his call, Brooks put his phone away, checked if his gun was in place, and moved onto the passenger's seat. Riggs started the engine and looking about, he too realized they were being watched. If he sensed it, Riggs had picked up on it too, that was how the guy worked. Tomorrow morning he would discuss the matter with Riggs, but not tonight. He was tired, unfocused, and a headache was building behind his temples.

/

"Home sweet home," Martin quipped as he parked the truck. Avery was about to open the car door, when he stopped his captain. "Just give me a moment." He wanted to check their surroundings first. No way his captain was leaving the truck first. He jumped onto the ground and looked about. He made it very obvious that he was checking the perimeters, sending a message of his own and letting them know he was onto them.

"Riggs," Brooks said, frowning at his detective. He knew what this was about, but wanted the other man to say it. "What are you doing?" He stayed in the truck though, as he didn't want to get into an argument on the driveway.

Playing along, Martin chuckled and pointed at his truck. "Sentimental reasons," he joked. "I don't want anything to happen to my baby. "We've been together for ages!" While they were bantering, he'd already checked the driveway and doorway, which appeared uncompromised. Only a closer look would confirm that there hadn't been any tampering, but he didn't want to worsen his captain's suspicion.

"Are you done now?" Brooks shook his head in exasperation, but decided to let the Texan get away with it for now. Who had named Riggs his personal bodyguard? Tomorrow morning, after he'd had several mugs of black coffee, was a much better opportunity to address the matter. He was too tired to get into a discussion right now.

"Yeah, we're fine." Martin opened the passenger door, and once Avery had exited the vehicle, remained alert while escorting his captain to the front door. He was about to suggest he went inside first, when Avery moved, passed him by and dealt with the alarm system. Damn, he should keep in mind that Avery was a still a cop, although rusty and maybe out of practice, but quick. He covered his captain's back and waited for the alarm system to come back on. If it had been up to him, he would have searched the entire house first, but that wasn't an option – yet. Avery had to be asleep first.

"Are you hungry?" Brooks slipped out of his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and headed for the kitchen. Riggs cursed softly, now that he was on the move again, and it made Brooks smile. The Texan had better not forget he was a cop too.

"I'm good," Martin said, "I had a sandwich for lunch." But then his stomach growled, and rather demandingly too. Lost for words, which was rare, he opted for shrugging his shoulders and smiling, hoping his charm worked on Avery, like it sometimes worked on Roger.

"Is pizza fine with you?" Brooks headed for the freezer and then for the state of the art oven Todd had had installed. He suspected Riggs ate whatever was put in front of him. His time in Iraq would have made sure of that. Hunger was a powerful motivator.

"You eat pizza?" Martin laughed and sat down at the kitchen counter. "I had you down for lots of lettuce, kale, tofu, all that stuff." Stuff which he didn't like at all, but he'd eat it, if nothing else was available.

"You're confusing me with the Murtaughs," Brooks told him as he shoved two pizzas into the oven. Normally he would offer a guest wine, but considering his guest was Riggs, he opted for soda instead. He ignored the shifty look the ex-military gave him upon being presented with the soda and checked the fridge. "Sorry, we're out of salad. Todd is the health freak. I still eat like a cop when I'm alone at home."

"Fine with me." Martin curled his fingers around his glass and sipped from the soda. He'd die for some scotch; beer would do too, but he needed his wits about him and he wasn't on his best when he was drunk. Normally he'd never ask anyone something personal, but his captain was relaxed and seemed approachable. And to be honest, he was curious "So for how long will Todd be away visiting his parents?" Wasn't it odd that Todd was away at that exact moment? He raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"A few more days at the very least." They'd decided Todd would be safer staying with his parents in another state while the threats continued. He removed the pizzas from the oven, sliced them, and moved the plates to the kitchen table. Riggs was quick to move along with him now that food was being served. "Go ahead," Brooks said invitingly, while picking up a slice himself. He reckoned he'd manage two or three, Riggs could eat the rest.

Hungry, Martin dug into the food, managing several slices. Once his boss stopped eating, he eyed the remaining slices appreciatively. He was still hungry.

"Go ahead, I'm done." Brooks smiled and gestured at the food. He sat back, nursing his beer and studied his house guest. Riggs seemed at ease, maybe even relaxed and the mask was definitely gone for the moment. He liked the Martin Riggs currently sitting in his kitchen.

"Thanks." Martin quickly finished the remaining slices and licked his fingers, feeling full and content. Secretly, he hoped his captain would offer him breakfast in the morning again. It was nice being taking care of for a change. Miranda had been the last person to make sure he ate.

Brooks felt tempted to address the reason why Riggs was here, but then reconsidered. He was too tired. Morning would come soon enough, as it was already one AM. "I'm turning in for the night. The guestroom comes with an en-suite if you want to shower," he offered again, but was fairly sure Riggs would decline the offer. "There are also spare clothes in the closet, which should fit. Feel free to use them."

Martin felt embarrassed; he didn't know when he'd last showered. He tended to forget stuff like that, especially after several nights of nightmares and drinking. He knew he stank and Avery shouldn't have to put up with that, so maybe he'd shower. "Thanks for the offer."

Brooks hadn't wanted to embarrass his guest, but Riggs' ashamed expression told him enough. It was best not to mention it again and let it go. "I'll see you in the morning, Riggs," Brooks said, feeling oddly sad while looking at the younger man, who clearly felt lost. Before leaving the kitchen, he looked at him from over his shoulder, noticing the other man hadn't moved. The more time he spend with the Texan, the more he started to realize the truth about the man. Riggs was painfully shy once people showed an interest in him. The wit and bravado were masks to hide behind. Well, maybe he'd find a way to crack open that armor just a little.

/

Martin debated what to do. Taking a shower sounded good, but it meant he was out of commission for some time and an attacker could easily get to Avery. But he did stink. Sighing, he made his way into the living room and sent a longing look at the liquor cabinet. But he wasn't going to steal from his captain and he certainly wasn't going to get drunk on the job. That would jeopardize the mission, and the mission came first.

Once Avery's door closed and the man stopped moving about, Martin waited another ten minutes. Then he made his rounds, checking the house, starting in the basement and making his way up into the attic. Everything looked fine. He found no evidence of tampering with the locks and the alarm system was running smoothly. Maybe he could afford a short break and take that shower. That way Avery no longer had to put up with his stench.

The guestroom was way too luxurious for him to feel comfortable sleeping there. The bed looked soft and inviting, but he knew from personal experience he would toss and turn all night because it was that soft. He wasn't used to sleeping in a comfortable bed anymore. In Iraq he'd mostly slept on floors if indoors and the cold earth when they were moving. Once home, he'd put a mattress on the floor, but most nights, he'd ended up sleeping next to it instead. He'd briefly changed his ways for Miranda, but after she'd died, old habits had resurfaced, often making him crash on a couch and ending up on the floor at any rate.

He stripped and made quick work of showering. Four minutes later, he cleaned up behind him, leaving the bathroom the way he'd found it. His clothes, dirty from sleeping in, chasing bad guys, and seldom being washed, no longer appealed to him after cleaning himself up. Brooks had mentioned clothes he could borrow. He'd return them later and dry-cleaned, if they remained in one piece long enough.

He ended up wearing grey, denim jeans, a green t-shirt and a black shirt, which looked an awful lot like a dress-shirt, but it had to do. He hadn't thought it possible, but he did feel better now. His hair was still damp and stuck to his brow. After running his fingers through it in order to disentangle it, he tucked the longest strands behind an ear.

He made sure he left the room the way he'd found it, taking his dirty clothes along with him. He went downstairs again and sat down on the couch, letting himself get used to this house's typical sounds. That way, anything out of the ordinary would alert him, even when he was asleep. Navy SEAL training was thorough and not something he could switch off.

He placed his gun on the couch next to him so it was within easy reach. Although he wanted to stay awake, his eyes closed out of their own accord. He wasn't looking forward to tonight's nightmares and hoped he wouldn't wake up Avery in the process. The couch proved too comfortable, too soft and too alien. He wasn't going to get much sleep that way. After reaching for his gun and taking it along with him, he slipped onto the floor, resting his back against the couch and stretching his legs. Yes, this was much better. Even while drifting off into sleep, part of him remained on guard.

/

_"Junior, where are you? Answer me, damn it, when I call you!" _

_In his dreams he ran until his lungs threatened to give out and heart almost exploded in his chest. He reached the old, run-down car, slipped into the trunk and quickly covered up the entrance to his hiding place before switching on the light. He was safe for now. His father had yet to discover his newest hide-away. _

_"Little rabbit, I'll find you! You can't run away! I'll find you!"_

_Thunder roared in the distance making him flinch and he curled up the best way he could, hoping his father wouldn't find him, for if he did, the bastard would beat him up again. His heart, which had already been hammering away like mad, finally slowed down, hearing his father moving away from the car. He was safe for now._

_/_

Brooks sat at some distance and closely watched Riggs shake uncontrollably in his sleep. Thirst had woken him and he had headed for the kitchen to get some OJ when commotion coming from the living room had drawn his attention. Recalling Riggs' nightmare the other night, he proceeded with caution, approaching soundlessly as he didn't want to startle the sleeping man. Riggs had been on the floor again, albeit showered and dressed in Todd's clothes, but whimpering in pain. Brooks had dealt with nightmares himself, but his were never this bad.

Finding Riggs asleep with his gun clenched tightly in his hand should worry him, but for some reason it didn't. When had he started to have such faith in the younger man? The way Riggs held onto his gun suggested it was for protection and feeling safe, not attacking someone.

"Stop… don't…"

Brooks sighed deeply, wishing he knew what demons haunted Riggs. The other man was having one hell of a nightmare and appeared to be struggling, maybe even fighting someone off. He was still debating the wisdom of waking up Riggs, when the brown eyes suddenly opened and blankly stared at him. It was obvious that Riggs wasn't quite awake yet, stuck in between leaving the nightmare behind and returning to reality – that moment when a nightmare still felt real. Brooks' heart did a funny thing when Riggs' eyes filled with tears, revealing emotions he usually kept inside. If only he could help, but he didn't dare touch the younger man, suspecting it would trigger a violent reaction, as Riggs was still lost in his nightmare. The only thing he could do was wait.

TBC

Part 5

Startling awake, Martin felt disorientated. His memories were still close to the surface and that frightened twelve-years old boy still looking for shelter. Packing it away and burrowing it as deeply as he could, he reined it in and raised his head, only to stare at his captain giving him a worried look. Ah, he'd fucked up again, which wasn't something new. For one moment, he thought he'd fallen asleep at the precinct, but then it all came back to him. He was at Avery's house keeping watch and damn, he'd fallen asleep on the job. And the worst thing was, he was sober and couldn't use being drunk as an excuse.

Brooks had no idea what to do. He had some experience dealing with traumatized cops, as it came with the job, but he felt ill equipped to deal with such severe trauma as Riggs was displaying. What had happened to the younger man to damage him for life? "Really, Martin, back on the floor? What's wrong with the bed upstairs? Or the couch for that matter?"

Trying to cover up his embarrassment, Martin laughed it off and pointed at the pajamas his boss wore. "Is that silk? Heard it feels great against naked skin." He winked at Avery, hoping his captain would let him get away with it. Pointing a finger at the other man, he added, "Midnight blue suits you! It brings out your eyes!"

Dr. Cahill was trained for the job, but he wasn't and Brooks didn't think he could miraculously get Riggs to open up to him, so he wasn't going to play psychiatrist. However, tomorrow he would take a closer look at Riggs' personal files. He wanted to know what he was up against. "Well, looks like you showered after all. By the way, Todd's clothes look good on you!" Hopefully that was the way to go.

Martin felt embarrassed that borrowing Todd's clothes was even necessary. Trying to cover up any shame he felt, he rubbed the back of his neck, another one of those annoying habits he'd developed. He was aware of his little tics, which showed whenever he felt emotionally vulnerable. Hopefully no one else had noticed.

Brooks checked the time. It was only three AM and they should get more sleep before heading back to work, but he didn't feel comfortable moving upstairs and letting Riggs deal with this alone. Something told him that the younger man had tried that for a long time, but was at wits end. His coping mechanisms weren't working anymore, providing they had worked in the past. "Come with me, Martin."

Hearing his name spoken in that tone made his heart twitch uncomfortably. So few people ever called him Martin. Miranda had and Ronnie had taken to calling him Marty. For a short while he'd had the family he'd always wanted – needed. "Cap," he paused, uncertain what he wanted to say. He felt lost for words.

"My name is Brooks. Feel free to use it." He could easily tell Martin didn't expect that. It showed how little kindness the younger man had known in the past and it only made him more determined to find out what had happened. "Do you like hot chocolate?"

Martin chuckled. "I was expecting scotch instead!" Hot chocolate? Was his superior really asking if he liked hot chocolate? What kind of question was that?

"Martin, I don't think alcohol is the answer right now. It never is." Brooks got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Riggs would follow him, or not. It was up to the younger man.

Martin excelled at reading between the lines, especially sober and alert, and he picked up on the odd tone Avery had used. He cringed, hoping the captain didn't have a drinking problem himself. Liquor was temptation. It was the devil whispering in your ear and promising to take away your problems. It didn't tell you that you'd wake up hung over and with your problems worse than before.

That particular tone made him get to his feet and shuffle into the kitchen as well. He remained near the doorway, for some reason feeling like he was trespassing and watched the older man warm milk the old-fashioned way. "I know it isn't," he admitted in a moment of weakness and honesty.

"Sit," Brooks said as he carried two mugs of hot chocolate over to the kitchen table. Watching Riggs awkwardly settle down, he caught the exact moment the other man tried to hide behind his façade, but it didn't work and it crumbled again .

What the hell was going on? His quick wit, which usually got him out of sticky situations, wouldn't come to him. Martin felt like a twelve year old boy again, but this time, he didn't feel scared. He trusted Avery and that realization startled him. When had that happened? It was all Roger's fault, and Trish's, at that. They had been the first to tear down his defenses.

Brooks opened a kitchen cupboard and removed Todd's favorite chocolate chip cookies. "Want one?"

Martin gingerly selected one and nibbled on it, lost in thought and trying to figure out what the hell was happening to him.

"Don't forget the hot chocolate. Todd always says mine's the best." He even winked at Riggs, hoping to further reassure him. Studying the younger man, he realized something that had previously escaped him. In many ways, Riggs often acted like a child, a teenager, rebelling against grownups and at the same time, desperately seeking a safe haven.

Acting on automatic pilot and thus doing as he was told, Martin sipped his chocolate milk and stared at the kitchen table. He couldn't look Avery in the eye at that moment. Only Roger, and maybe Trish had seen him at his worst and now Avery knew the truth about him too.

Brooks waited for the younger man to finish his drink before addressing him again. Hopefully the hot milk had settled his nerves and if he was lucky, it would make his guest sleepy. "Do me a favor, Martin?" Riggs flinched each time he addressed him using his first name, but he continued doing so. If this was going to work, they'd have to bond.

You name it, you got it, Martin thought, but instead he said, "What kind of favor?" He simply couldn't help being suspicious; it had been engrained on his very being from a very young age.

"Get some sleep and use the bed. You're my guest and it doesn't do to sleep on the floor." Brooks hoped his tactic would work. It might backfire, but he had to try. "The house alarm is on and we're safe. No one is getting inside and you can relax." He didn't get a verbal response, but Martin remained calm, his fingers tightly curled around the now empty mug and then he nodded briskly.

"Good," Brooks said, pleased, "that's all I want. I don't have to be back at work until nine and since you're my ride, we're going in together. So get some sleep, Martin." Again, the younger man flinched at the mention of his name and he wanted to reach out, wrap his fingers around that trembling hand, but he stopped himself in time. It was too early for that. "Now get going, I'll clean up here."

"I can do that," Martin offered. It was the least he could do.

"Get going, young man," Brooks said in his best parental voice, or what he hoped it sounded like. "Move it."

"Yes, sir," Martin said, his voice trembling with emotion. Smoothing his hair back, he got to his feet and shuffled out of the kitchen. Avery didn't play fair. The older man had found out his weaknesses even faster and with more precision than the Murtaughs had. And the fact that he was giving in like that scared the hell out of him.

/

Avery cleaned up the kitchen and took his time doing so. Twenty minutes later he went upstairs and noticed Martin had left the door open, which came as a surprise. Finding the lamp on the nightstand switched on was also unexpected. Apparently Martin could follow orders, seeing as the younger man was asleep on the bed, his back pressed tightly against the wall. Just how exhausted was Riggs that he was able to go back to sleep after experiencing such a nightmare?

The good thing was that his gun was no longer in his hand. Martin had probably put it beneath his pillow or somewhere near the bed, but it wasn't in plain sight. Brooks approached the bed, picked up the comforter, and covered up the sleeping man. Martin shifted in his sleep, and pulled the fabric close until it covered part of his face, practically hiding him from view. Trying to hide from someone, Brooks wondered? He stood there for another minute, promising himself to get to the bottom of this.

Brooks left his bedroom door open too. That way he heard any commotion which Martin might cause in case he had another nightmare that night. His own troubles moved into the back, as he focused on his newest detective instead.

/

Like so often, Martin had no idea where he was upon waking up and it caused him to feel spooked. Sitting up in bed, he did a quick sweep of the room. Oh yes, he was staying at Avery's place, keeping an eye out for their captain and spectacularly failing at that. It was more like Avery was looking out for him. That had to stop. He had to get his act back together again; they were just nightmares, reminding himself that they had no power over him – he wished.

He knew the truth though. His father would never leave him alone. The bastard would haunt him forever and even more so, his own fear of turning into his old man one day. He'd kill himself the day that happened.

He got to his feet, made the bed military style, and went downstairs where he started breakfast, hoping he wasn't trespassing. But he had the feeling his captain wouldn't mind. The first thing he made was coffee, as it would get him through the day. He'd need lots of it and no booze, liquor was definitely a very bad idea right now.

"What are you doing?" Brooks looked at the made breakfast table. Bacon, toast, and an omelet was waiting for him, along with coffee, which smelled way too strong for his taste. So he added milk and some sugar to it, which he normally never did. However, he was glad he had. That stuff was lethal! The next time, he was in charge of coffee and most certainly not Martin Riggs.

"What does it look like, cap? It's called breakfast!" He tried to sound chipper, but it wasn't working. He filled up his mug and looked everywhere, except at Avery. He felt embarrassed and not a little ashamed now that the older man knew about his nightmares.

"Thanks, but you didn't have to," Brooks said, trying to sound parental, though he had no experience in that department. Maybe he should act the way he would have wanted his father to act, hadn't the man left. He took his seat, forced down the horrible brew while trying to keep a straight face, and wondered if he would get away with pouring it down the drain once Martin wasn't looking. Nah, that would be bad parenting, at least he thought so.

Riggs looked disheveled, mostly because his hair was all over the place. Had the younger man even used a comb or brush after washing his hair? A look at the clock told Brooks that they still had some time left before they had to head to work. "Martin, we need to talk."

Martin caught himself before he flinched and repressed the urge to do so. He couldn't let the older man see how much being called that – in that particular tone of voice – affected him. "What about?" If the other man wanted to discuss his nightmares or anything personal… Martin wasn't sure he could deny him.

"About why you're tagging along home with me. I doubt it's because of the pizza, hot chocolate, or getting breakfast in the morning." Martin's relief was apparent in the way the younger man finally made eye contact. The Texan had expected a different subject matter.

"And why's that?" Martin sipped more coffee, waiting for Avery to make his next move.

"You know about the threats I've received, don't you?"

"Yeah," Martin confirmed. "Just making sure you ain't getting hurt." Although, so far he'd failed miserably. He had to stop falling asleep or embarrassing himself in front of the older man. "You don't seem to take it seriously though. Considering your tires got slashed last night, I'd expect you to be more concerned." He felt safe discussing this and so he did. "And each time we left that parking lot someone was watching us."

His first reaction was to tell Martin not to worry, but then he reminded himself the other man cared – worried about him. "You must understand; I've dealt with hate crimes most of my life. First at school, later at the academy, and it got even worse when I was made captain. You have no idea how many times I've received death threats, or even worse. Once, someone threatened to castrate me and feed my genitals to his dog. I can't let this get to me. I can't let this dictate my life."

"Someone really did that?" Martin's facial features contorted, revealing his disgust.

"Yes," Brooks confirmed, recalling how worried he'd been that Riggs might turn out homophobic too. "I'm still a cop though. I carry a gun and I know how to defend myself." But he wasn't going to turn the younger man away if he wanted to tag along later that night. Not because he felt he needed protection or someone in the house with him, but because Martin needed him to be there instead. Whatever Riggs was struggling with, it was slowly killing him and if he could help, he would.

"I still want to keep an eye on you." It was who he was – he wanted to protect, to put away the bad guys, and if possible, save the people he cared about, even after failing at keeping Miranda safe. Maybe he wouldn't screw up so badly protecting his captain.

"And I'll let you." Brooks wasn't sure why, but guarding him made Martin feel better. After finishing his breakfast, he forced himself to swallow that last horrendous sip of coffee. "Leave it. The maid will clean it up." He'd hired this lovely lady because she was a struggling single parent raising two bright young boys and she desperately needed the money. So maybe he paid her a very generous fee, but he did so on purpose, knowing it meant the boys didn't go to bed hungry. "Ready to face the day, detective?"

No, not really, but then again, he seldom was. "Yeah, sure, let's go." He'd drop his captain off at the station, head for his trailer, and while he was there, pick up some stuff that might come in handy.

TBC

Part 6

Brooks couldn't help feeling amused and grinning slightly. Each time someone at the LAPD building looked at him the wrong way, a soft growl escaped Riggs. He literally had a watch dog at his side! "I'm quite safe here," he reminded his companion. "You must have things to do, places to go."

Yeah, now that he came to think about it, he'd already missed his appointment with Cahill and the doc would doubtlessly give him a piece of her mind later. He'd bear the lecture, knowing he deserved it. "Not yet," Martin quipped and stepped into the elevator with his captain intent on escorting Avery to his office first. He glared at the officer who wanted to join them and the man got the message, saying he'd wait for the next ride upstairs.

Shaking his head slightly, Brooks looked at Martin. "Will you be doing that all day?"

"If necessary," confirmed Martin as they stepped into the bullpen. Roger was already there, which was good as he needed to update his partner. The commotion in Avery's office immediately alerted him. "Why is there a forensics team in there?" Next to him, his boss came to a halt too, frowning deeply.

Roger quickly approached and checked on his former partner. He'd worried last night, but knowing Riggs was watching Brooks had helped. "You got a delivery during the night, cap."

Brooks crossed the distance to his office, but was told to wait outside. Normally he wouldn't comply, but he didn't want to contaminate a possible crime scene either.

"You really need to check where you order stuff, cap. Their delivery service sucks," Roger said, trying to make light of the situation. It was only a matter of time before…

"Is that blood?" Brooks' eyebrows inched higher at seeing the red stains covering his desk and chair. There was even more on the floor.

Roger nodded. "That much they let slip. Lots of blood and a number of body parts inside that box." He pointed at the brown delivery box on the captain's desk. "We're trying to find out how it got there, but it must have happened in-between shifts." Whenever the night crew got off and the day crew arrived there was a five to ten minutes gap in which the precinct was often empty.

Martin would have loved to go in and conduct his own investigation, but also realized he had to step back and leave it to forensics. "Body parts?" That sounded ominous. Sending messages was one thing, but sending body parts another.

"Yes," confirmed Roger, "Fingers, toes, ears and some other parts too." He shouldn't be squeamish about it, but he didn't want to address the matter. He should though. "Male genitalia," he added, uneasily.

Brooks failed to hide his reaction to that, and involuntarily took a step back. He told himself to shape up and to get over it. This wasn't something new. "I guess that means I need to find myself a new office for the time being." They'd update him later, and in the meantime, he planned on doing his job. "Riggs, I'm confiscating your desk for today. Now get moving!"

"Why mine? Use Roger's!" Martin objected, scratching his neck and cringing at the thought of Avery finding his booze supply in the bottom drawer. Unfortunately, he couldn't protest a direct order. "Fine," he growled eventually, making it clear he didn't agree and stepped away from his desk. Too bad he couldn't remove his breast flask without drawing attention to it. He had to hope for the best.

Gesturing for Roger to join him, Martin waited for his partner to fall into step beside him. "I need to make a quick run to my trailer and check in with Cahill before she comes looking for me. I missed my appointment." he explained at seeing Roger's puzzled expression. At the moment, he could do without complications.

"I'll keep an eye on him. Don't worry," Roger confirmed and nodded. "I heard someone slashed his tires last night."

"Yeah, someone did." Still minor things, more harassment than anything, but it was getting worse. The look on his partner's face told him that Roger felt the same way.

"So how did Avery get home?" Roger chuckled, hoping to somewhat embarrass his partner. Of course he knew what had happened. After learning about the slashed tires, he'd watched the security footage and had seen them take off in the truck.

"I drove us home and stayed the night, making sure everything was fine. He eats pizza by the way," Martin deflected, while waiting for the elevator to arrive. "I didn't think he would."

"You got pizza? Damn, I only get those healthy salads Todd loves!"

"Todd isn't around, remember? I reckon Avery wants him safe. That's why he's staying with family at the moment." The elevator door opened, revealing a worried-looking Ronnie Delgado. Martin cursed beneath his breath, hoping Ronnie wouldn't address him. At the precinct he did his utmost to avoid running into his father in law and now they stood face to face unexpectedly. Martin hoped Ronnie would play along and not reveal their relationship.

Ronnie's eyes narrowed, quickly taking in Martin's appearance and noticing the telltale signs of sleep deprivation. But the eyes were clear, not clouded by alcohol. Another sober day for Martin Riggs? Originally he'd wanted to check up on Brooks, but he remained where he was, cocking his head slightly and telling his son in law subtly to get inside.

"Sir," Roger said, wondering why the City Attorney stared at Riggs in that way. He couldn't think of any stunts his partner had pulled recently – nothing that would get him into trouble with the City Attorney. But damn, that stare was intense!

"See you later, Rog," Martin said, receiving Ronnie's message loud and clear, and thinking it best to obey he stepped inside. After the doors closed, Ronnie halted the elevator. Not good.

"Marty, what's going on? I just got news that the threats escalated." Seeing Martin sober and alert warmed his heart. He decided against addressing it, knowing it would only send the younger man running. Discussing Brooks instead might be the common ground they needed right now.

"Apparently someone's really angry with Avery for being gay. You know about the slashed tires and the box delivered to his office?" Relief flooded his system. He could do this. He could discuss their captain and current situation as long as Ronnie didn't address Miranda.

"Yeah, I just received the update and I was on my way to check on him when I ran into you. I'll put a protective detail on him and order extra patrols near his house. We look after our own. Do I need to station men at his house too?" Knowing Martin the way he did, he suspected his son in law was already on the job.

"Running the extra patrols is a good thing. Don't be too obvious about guarding him though, as it might scare off the perps. If they show up, they'll find me ready for them."

So he had been right about that. "Promise me to be careful, Marty. Don't get shot if you can avoid it." His son in law had the tendency to use his body as a shield and he didn't want Martin in the hospital again. He still recalled rushing the younger man there after he'd overdosed on sleeping meds. It had happened the day after Miranda's funeral.

Martin shuffled his feet nervously. Ronnie cared too much about him. He shouldn't – not after losing Miranda.

Not getting an answer told Ronnie all he needed to know. Martin's death wish was still very real; survivor's guilt making him act like that. He carefully placed a hand on his son in law's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't make me bury you too, Marty. I don't want Anna crying at another grave. I need you alive, do you hear me?" As they stood close, he easily picked up on the shudder running through the younger man's frame. Good, at least his words had registered with Martin!

"I'll try," Martin promised, although he might not be able to keep it. If it came down to saving Avery's life by taking the bullet himself, he wouldn't hesitate.

/

An hour later, Martin was back at the precinct in a clean set of clothes, well, relatively clean. Definitely cleaner than the ones he'd been wearing before slipping into Todd's, which he would return after having them cleaned.

His conversation with Ronnie continued to replay in his mind. Ronnie's concern was obvious. Why the man still cared was beyond him, as he'd gotten his daughter killed. Ronnie should be angry! Instead, he kept inviting him into his home and had even tried to hug him more than once. Resolutely Martin shoved his worries to the back of his mind and marched into the bullpen, already on the lookout for his target. Where was his captain?

He found Avery at his desk, making a call. He leaned against the desk and arched an eyebrow. Avery's office was empty, but had been sealed off for the time being. Weren't there any other offices available? Why stay at his desk? Even more importantly, had Avery found his booze?

"Looking sharp!" Roger commented and winked at his partner, letting Riggs know he'd kept a close eye on their captain. "Cahill is looking for you though. Mad as hell, that one."

"I'll survive," Martin stated, immediately regretting not putting up his usual front, but damn it, he worried!

"What happened, Riggs?" Brooks abandoned his work for the moment, leaned back in the chair, and studied his detective. Martin's desk was surprisingly well organized, something he hadn't expected. What he did expect was the breast flask in the bottom drawer of the desk. Surprisingly enough, it was empty.

"I missed my eight o'clock appointment with the doc," Martin admitted and shrugged. He quickly turned around, headed back to the elevator, and called out, "Catch you later!" Maybe she wouldn't be too pissed off if he showed up out of his own accord. Her hunting him down before a session usually made him act defensively. Also, if he dealt with her now, Roger could watch Avery. Everybody would win, which hopefully included him as well.

/

Maureen Cahill didn't believe her eyes at first. She'd only left to get some tea, and now that she was back at her office, Riggs was sitting on the couch, smiling at her, and probably hoping she'd let him off easy. She didn't plan on doing that though. He'd missed his appointment and she needed to know why. "What a surprise," she started as she sat down and nursed her tea. "You're a couple of hours late, Riggs." She had to be tough at times, even though she'd never forget what he'd done for her when her stalker had blown up her home. He'd saved her life.

"Sorry about that, doc, but I'm here now. Next time, I'll bring you tea, though I'll never understand how you can drink that brew." She did look annoyed, but not yet pissed off, which was a win in his book. Hopefully this wouldn't last long. He wanted to get more information about that box and the body parts it contained. He had more important stuff to do than evading her questions!

"Why are you late?" She'd found out earlier, when she had checked with detective Murtaugh. Most of the time, Roger knew Riggs' whereabouts and he hadn't disappointed her. She approved of Riggs' desire to keep Avery safe, as she respected the LAPD captain and considered him a friend. However, Riggs didn't have to know that yet. "You could have called or messaged me."

"Well, we don't want people to get the wrong idea when I send you messages first thing in the morning. They might start talking, you know," he winked for good measure. An idea hit him. Avery was targeted because he was gay, or at least that was what the threats were about. Maybe he could shift the stalker's attention away from the captain and onto him, much like he had done when he'd pretended dating the doc. Maybe whoever was behind the threats might target him instead? It was worth a try.

"I want the truth, Riggs." She refused to let his distraction tactic work and gave him her patented look, the one she knew he hated.

Telling the truth would get him his freedom back the fastest, he reckoned. "The captain wanted to have breakfast first, which meant I ended up running late." Would that get her off his back?

"The captain?" She made sure to appear puzzled, eager to find out how much more he would share. Most days, Riggs hid behind wit and bravado, but sometimes, he was willing to share just a little. She hoped today was one of them.

"Yeah, I stayed at his place last night." Martin considered his next move. How much should he tell her? "You know about those threats?"

She nodded. "Someone's trying to intimidate him. I heard about the grizzly delivery to his office this morning." So Riggs had taken their captain under his wing? It hardly surprised her. She wanted to hear him say it though. "How did you end up staying with him?"

"Someone slashed his car tires last night, so I drove him to his place and ended up staying. I wanted to make sure he was safe."

Hearing that confirmed everything she knew about him. Riggs cared – deeply, even though he would never admit it. "And maybe see to it that no harm comes to him?"

Martin rubbed the side of his neck, catching himself doing it again. She was smart and would eventually pick up on his little ticks. "He's my captain."

"And you consider him a friend?" she said, pushing a little.

"Maybe," he admitted. Things were getting uncomfortable and it was time to leave. "So, if you'll excuse me now, I have to get back there. I need to keep an eye on him." He got to his feet, stepped over the coffee table, and was out of the door before she could call him back. Mission achieved!

She watched him go with mixed feelings. Her heart went out to him. There was so much good inside Martin Riggs, if only the man would see it himself!

/

The body parts turned out to be from different corpses, from people who had left their remains to science. They came from various city morgues, which made it hard to link them to likely suspects. They hadn't found any DNA traces of a possible stalker, which complicated matters further. Brooks had expected nothing less. Experience had taught him that perps like that were usually thorough. It did however complicate matters.

He'd relocated to a nearby office and fought down the urge to close the blinds. His detectives kept watching him. Roger hovered near, finding excuses to come into his office every now and then to check on him. Bailey and Cruz remained close as well, and he noticed the glances the detectives exchanged whenever he moved away from his desk. He felt flattered that they cared that much about his well-being, but it also irked him; like he couldn't take care of himself! Riggs was the worst though. After seeing Cahill, he'd breezed in, reclaiming his desk and positioning his chair in such a way that he had a perfect view of his temporary office.

"Brooks, are you even listening?"

Ronnie Delgado had shown up thirty minutes ago and hadn't stopped talking since, urging him to take precautions. At first he had fiercely protested, but the City Attorney was wearing him down. "Ronnie, what do you want me to do? So far the intimidation is rather lame. Slashed tires? Body parts? You know I've dealt with worse!"

"This happened in your office, Brooks! That should be impossible. You're surrounded by cops. This office should be impregnable and yet they managed to get inside! You know what that means!"

"It's an inside job." He'd feared as much. Some of his own men wanted him gone. "Still, Ronnie, as long as we lack leads, there's nothing we can do and I refuse to give them what they want. I'll carry on working!" He'd raised his voice, something he seldom did and of course it attracted attention. Riggs and Murtaugh moved closer, positioning themselves in a way that might allow them to eavesdrop. He should call them on it, but first he had to get Ronnie off his back.

"At least allow me to station some men at your house, Brooks. You're a good friend and I want to help!" He could order the protective detail, but he didn't want to go against Brook's wishes. Ronnie wanted his friend's cooperation.

Brooks huffed. "Don't worry. I've already got a body guard, or didn't they tell you?" Ronnie gave him a puzzled look, which made him elaborate. "Riggs has taken to driving me home and back to the precinct. Last night I got him to actually use the guestroom after I found him sleeping on the floor. He's a difficult house guest!" He expected Ronnie to chuckle, but the other man's expression turned sad instead. What was he was missing?

"That's good. He's a good man to have around. I'll stop nagging as long as he's close." Ronnie recalled several instances when he'd come upon Martin, fitfully sleeping on the floor during the few times Miranda had left to visit friends or family. Due to his daughter's absence Martin was often unable to sleep. Most of the time his son in law ended up sleeping on the floor, or when they got lucky, on the couch.

At first, Martin's behavior had mystified him and he'd worried about his daughter's choice for a life partner, but once he had dug into Martin's background, he'd begun to understand. He'd embraced Martin as his son in law in every way possible, even if the younger man had tried keeping him at a distance. He'd adopted Martin as his own, and each time he told his son in law he was family, he meant it.

Brooks welcomed Ronnie backing off for whatever reason, as it gave him breathing space. "Riggs is determined to be my shadow. I won't be able to change that." He might be captain, but that didn't mean the younger man actually followed his orders!

"I'll check on you tomorrow," Ronnie announced, letting Brooks know he had his back. "Take care and be careful." He figured he'd gotten his message across and left the office, noting the way Martin quickly made himself invisible.

TBC

Part 7

"Any plans for tonight?" Roger inquired, making sure his former partner was still safe and sound inside the office while addressing Riggs.

"I sure do, Rog! Forensics claimed the cap's car, so I'll be his assigned driver tonight!" he joked. "Thankfully he doesn't criticize my driving the way you do!"

"You drive like a lunatic!" Roger retorted and nodded, approving of Riggs' plan. "Call me the moment you need back up. Bailey and Cruz also want to help."

"I will." He'd make that call, if necessary, but for now they were good.

/

It was only six PM and normally Brooks would never even consider calling it a day, but fatigue had worn him down. Tension was slowly eating away at him. He might act unfazed, but that didn't mean these threats didn't mess with him. Finding several body parts on his desk that morning had made him realize this was more serious than he'd thought. Someone within the LAPD had targeted him.

Ronnie had mentioned an accompanying note, once more threatening to kill him. The lack of demands threw him though. In the past, they had demanded he leave the academy, leave the force or even step down as captain. Nothing like that this time around. What did they hope to accomplish then? Wasn't this mere harassment after all? Did they really want to end him?

Martin knocked, trying to be polite for a change. Seeing his boss nod, he opened the door, but didn't step inside, respecting Avery's privacy. "I'm getting coffee. You want some too?"

Martin looked tired too, Brooks noticed, which didn't surprise him, considering the younger man's sleeping problem. His stomach revolted at the thought of more caffeine. He needed food instead. "How about we call it a day? We get something to eat and put our feet up?"

Recalling his original plan, Martin smiled charmingly. "Are you asking me out on a date, cap? What will Todd think?" Overly dramatic hand gestures illustrated his words.

"No date, Riggs. No offense, but you're not my type." Which was actually the truth. "And even if you were, I'm the faithful kind."

"Me too," Martin muttered beneath his breath, before realizing what he was doing. Avery arched an eyebrow inquisitively, but he dismissed it. "Food sounds great." He'd forgotten about lunch, but he'd had a decent breakfast which was more than he ate on most days.

"Take out or restaurant?" Brooks rose from behind his desk and made his way over to Riggs, who stepped aside to let him pass.

"Whatever you decide is fine with me." Eating at a restaurant might work best though, if he wanted to draw the perp's attention and make himself a target instead. He signaled Roger that they were leaving and made sure he was armed.

"Restaurant," Brooks decided. He didn't want to sit cooped up at home yet. He needed out – a taste of freedom. He'd felt locked up all day. They rode down the elevator and headed for the truck. The damn thing stood out from all other cars, as it was big, and frankly quite ugly. But that was part of the truck's charm, he reckoned.

"Where do you want to eat?" Martin started the engine and drove toward the exit, all the way scanning their surroundings. This time, he didn't feel watched, which worried him. Maybe they were waiting for them outside of the building? It was a good thing they didn't head home right away. Them taking a different route would take the perp aback.

"Surprise me," Brooks whispered, tired after dodging concerned looks all day long. All he wanted was to get away from it all for an hour or two, before the madness started all over again tomorrow.

"Oh, this IS a date after all, sweetheart, I'm touched." Martin joked, hoping to do away with his companion's darkening mood.

Brooks blinked in surprise. Maybe he should have expected that, but hearing it still felt so wrong. "Don't call me that, Martin." Brooks then chuckled, realizing his detective's game plan. The sweet talk had lightened his mood. "I'm not your sweetheart and never will be!"

Martin grinned and headed for the cozy restaurant he'd tracked the doc to. Their chicken Parmesan was to die for and back then, he'd liked the relaxed atmosphere. He didn't do crowded places and he'd felt comfortable there. "Just wait until after I wined and dined you," he said teasingly. Peeking at his captain, he found him relaxing and even returning the smile. Well, at least his tactic was working!

/

While shutting down the engine, Martin quickly answered his phone. Bailey was calling and she might have important news. He waited for his captain to get out of the truck, and while he pretended to do the same, he quickly said, "Any news?"

"You're being followed. Black sedan, two men, one of them wearing a Stetson. We got eyes on you."

"Thanks." He ended the call and hid the phone from view, hoping Avery hadn't noticed. It certainly didn't look like it. The captain appeared charmed by the restaurant. Keeping his game plan in mind, Martin led the way and opened the door to the restaurant. He ignored Avery's surprised look at letting him enter first, but as he closed the door and looked over his shoulder, he caught sight of a guy wearing a Stetson. He was on high alert, ready for what was about to go down. He had his captain's back.

"Table for two," Brooks said, looking about, pleasantly surprised by Martin's choice. He'd expected to end up in some dirty dump instead or a fast food joint. Maybe he'd underestimated the Texan. "I'm impressed." He might take Todd here for dinner once his partner was back.

The waiter showed them to their table and Martin opted to sit facing the door so he could keep an eye on their pursuers. A moment later, the two men appeared and sat down near the doorway, ensuring a quick exit if necessary.

After studying the menu, Brooks asked his companion what he'd like, but the detective simply ignored him. "Martin, are you even listening?" The Texan looked preoccupied and Brooks wished he knew what was going on.

"Yeah, of course I am! I'm getting the chicken Parmesan, it's divine! You should try it," Martin said, catching on just in time. His focus was on the two strangers though. He didn't like the way they moved. The way they carried themselves screamed military at him.

Brooks noted Martin ordering black coffee instead of the alcohol the man usually consumed. He shivered, determined to be the one in charge of making coffee in the morning and to keep the younger man out of the kitchen. That unholy brew had upset his stomach all day long. Running low on patience, he pushed, "What's going on? Martin, tell me," he practically ordered.

Martin ignored the order; he was good at that – had years of practice doing so! "Just enjoying spending time with you, darling!" he said loud enough for their pursuers to hear. "We should do this more often!" He'd almost added a sweetie, but reconsidered, as Avery's eyes had widened dramatically at being called darling. His captain would tear him a new one if he added another endearment.

Darling? Martin had actually called him that? What the hell was going on? This wasn't a date! Oh… That was the game plan? Really? Riggs figured that whatever had worked with Cahill might work again? "He's here, isn't he? Someone followed us here." He wasn't stupid and didn't appreciate Martin keeping him in the dark.

Martin considered his options and made his decision. "Just play along," he whispered, for his boss' ears only. "They're here, all right."

"They? There's more than one?" Stunned, Brooks stared at the hand which suddenly covered his. "Riggs?" This couldn't be happening! They'd target Martin too if they thought they were dating! Brooks sighed, realizing his mistake. This had been Martin's plan all along!

"Pretend it's a date. Maybe we can provoke them." Or shift their attention away from his boss and to him instead.

"Don't do it," Brooks said, as he leaned in closer, keeping their conversation as private as possible. "They'll target you too." If these lunatics wanted to get back at him, hurt him, they would love taking out his lover first. That was why he'd asked Todd to stay away until they'd dealt with the threat. He wouldn't allow Martin to make himself a target – again.

"Hey, it might work. Let's give it a shot, darling!" Martin raised Avery's hand and squeezed tenderly. "I always wanted to date a LAPD captain anyway!"

Brooks was tempted to pull away his hand, but didn't want to complicate the matter. "Stop it, Martin, just stop it."

But his attention was still on the two men, who were getting to their feet. A moment later, they left the restaurant. He counted on Cruz and Bailey to have eyes on them. "They left. They looked pissed." The guy wearing the Stetson had looked particularly furious. "Maybe we'll see some action tonight." He released Avery's hand and thanked the waiter who put the chicken Parmesan in front of him. "What did you get? Steak? I never took you for a steak guy, cap! I like you!"

"Screw you, Riggs," escaped him. Brooks was getting fed up with the other man's antics.

"Must disappoint you, cap. I don't swing that way!" He dug into his meal and kept glancing at the doorway, making sure he caught their return.

Exasperated, Brooks started on his steak. And he'd thought his day couldn't possibly get any worse! "Just so you know it, this is the worst date ever!"

"So, you're finally admitting we're on a date, sweetie!" Martin gave his captain his most blinding smile. "Don't worry! I'll grow on you!"

Brooks sighed; that was exactly what he was afraid of!

/

"Any news?" Martin stood guard in the hallway while his boss was in the bathroom. It was the perfect moment to check in with his colleagues.

"The guy with the Stetson disappeared. The driver went back to the car and hasn't moved yet. We don't have eyes on the Stetson, so be careful when leaving."

"Roger, Rog," He grinned, knowing it would elicit some response.

"Not funny, Riggs!"

"Not not funny," he countered, enjoying their bantering. It always helped him relax.

"You're a hopeless case," Murtaugh said before ending the call.

A minute later, Avery joined him. "Ready to head home?" Martin had considered hiding at a safe house instead, but his boss would never go along with it. He also counted on the rest of the team to have made sure Avery's home was secure. Being at home would also put the other man at ease; he didn't want his captain jumpy and on edge.

"Just so you know it, I don't agree with your plan. Trying to make them think we're dating is a bad move." Brooks didn't like that plan at all. It was bad enough hate groups targeted him. He didn't want Martin's reputation to suffer too.

"Give me some credit," Martin said reassuringly. He disliked seeing his captain all riled up. "It worked with Cahill, maybe it'll work with you too. If we can draw them out by provoking them, then we can catch and arrest them."

"Aren't you worried about your reputation?" Brooks walked beside Martin as they made their way back to the truck. "They'll start talking behind your back and call you names."

Martin chuckled. "What reputation, cap? I told you before, I don't care about anyone's sexual orientation, least of all my own." Even if his fellow cops thought him gay, he couldn't care less. If necessary, he would set them straight and consider the matter handled.

Suddenly, his instincts kicked in, alerting him to the danger they were walking into. "Doesn't feel right," Martin muttered and minutely studied their surroundings. Way too many trees providing cover, too many bushes to hide behind. "I don't like this one bit." His hand automatically moved to his gun when he heard it - an eerie swooshing sound, one he hadn't heard in years, but he knew exactly what it meant. "Get down!" he acted at once, knowing each second counted.

Eighty kilos slammed into him without warning, taking him down and pressing him into the earth. "Riggs!" Brooks protested loudly, but then the body protectively draped atop of him shuddered, making him fear the worst. "Get off me, damn it!"

"Stay down," Martin ordered, his tone making it very clear that he wasn't kidding. He expected to be obeyed, even by his captain. He continued to use his body as a shield, but footsteps removing themselves from the crime scene told him the shooter was already on the move.

"We're in pursuit," Bailey shouted before taking off after Cruz, heading for the shooter. But they were too late. The shooter slipped into the waiting car and it took off with screeching tires. The two detectives got into their car and chased them.

"Riggs, get off!" Worried, Brooks tried to make eye contact. What had happened? Had Martin been hit? He would have shoved the younger man off of him, but first, he had to make sure Martin wasn't wounded. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Cap, are you okay?" Martin carefully rolled away from Avery, who was loudly protesting his current condition. He dropped heavily onto the ground, trying to catch his breath. Patiently, he waited for his raging captain to collect himself. "You're not hit?"

"I'm fine," Brooks confirmed, discounting the bruises he would end up with after having been tackled that violently. "What possessed you to do that?" Since Martin was sitting up and appeared unharmed, he was getting ready to lecture the younger man for tackling him in that manner. This wasn't a football match!

"Just doing my job," Martin replied, slightly offended that Avery was still pissed off. Hell, he'd only tried to prevent worse! He dragged himself over to his truck, sliding down onto the ground, and rested his back against a wheel for support. Ignoring Avery for the moment, who was just about to launch another lecture, he looked at his shoulder. He didn't experience any pain, as he tightly shut it out for the time being. He'd pay the price for it later, but for now he had to determine the damage.

First, he needed to remove the metal arrow stuck in his left shoulder and he wasn't looking forward to it. He still recalled those nasty, little hooks that had buried themselves into his leg back in Iraq. Removing it would hurt, so it was best to get it over with before shock set in.

Brooks, who had been about to lecture his detective, froze at seeing Martin drag himself over to the truck. It wasn't until the younger man examined his shoulder that he realized what had happened. "You're hit!" But it wasn't a bullet wound, which he expected to see. No, a metal arrow had buried itself in Martin's left shoulder. He swallowed hard at catching sight of the blood quickly spreading across the green coat.

Seeing Martin wrap his fingers around the shaft urged him into action. He knelt at the injured man's side and curled his fingers around Martin's wrist, stopping him from pulling out the arrow. "What the hell? Leave it alone, Martin! Don't you do that! Stay clear of the arrow, that's an order!"

Catching sight of his former partner, Brooks added, "Roger, we need an ambulance ASAP." Who the fuck used metal arrows these days?

"Let me guess," Roger started, quickly arriving at the scene and already speed dialing the correct number. "Riggs got shot again? Well, that's a new one! Seriously, arrows?" He quickly relayed their position, and once he was sure the ambulance was on the way, he sat on his heels on Riggs' other side. "Stop that!" he said, realizing his partner wanted to remove the arrow himself.

Brooks carefully kept Martin's hand away from the shaft and then held onto the limb, making sure the injured man wouldn't try removing it a second time. "What's wrong with you?" Brooks shook his head at the little regard Martin had for his own health. "Let the paramedics deal with that. You'll only make it worse." Martin was wounded because of him. Damn it, he really needed to talk to the younger man about his protector complex!

Since his captain had a firm hold on his hand, Martin momentarily abandoned the idea of removing the arrow himself. "It's not a big deal," he said, trying to calm them down now that they were freaking out on him. "I got hit in Iraq too. Son of bitch shot me in the leg back then, so trust me, I know what I'm doing. Just let me pull it out, wrap up the shoulder, and then get the arrow to Forensics. Bailey and Cruz are still hot on their trail, aren't they, Rog?"

Brooks shook his head, remaining firm. "They're not our first priority right now. You are. Martin, let us take care of you. And no, you're not removing that arrow yourself. We've got you. You're in good hands with us." Martin's eyes grew unfocused and then the injured man averted his gaze, staring at the trees instead. At first, Brooks worried it was due to the pain, but then he realized the truth. "Yes, Martin, we care. We'll look after you."

"Cap," Martin tried again. They were losing precious time. They should be in pursuit by now. "You don't understand! I've dealt with this before. In Iraq…" He didn't get a chance to finish up as the ambulance came to a halt next to his truck, and paramedics appeared, ready to take charge. Fuck, this wasn't necessary!

"You WILL let them do their job, Riggs. That's an order. And Roger and I are staying to make sure you do as you're told!" Brooks watched every move the paramedics made, feeling protective of his injured detective after what Martin had done for him.

"We need to get him to the hospital before removing it," the paramedic said after examining the injury.

"No hospital," Martin demanded and shook his head. They weren't taking him there! He freed his hand of Avery's hold and gritted his teeth while violently pulling the arrow from his shoulder. Fuck, it hurt just as bad as it had back then. Nasty little buggers, those hooks. The arrow was already out, so there was no more reason to take him to the hospital. He felt rather smug and grinned victoriously.

"Riggs," both Avery and Roger exclaimed his name at the same time.

Martin shrugged and instantly regretted it. "No hospital, they can patch me up here." If necessary he could do it himself, and then he'd go back on the case.

"What's wrong with you, man?" Roger swallowed hard. That must have hurt like a bitch and Riggs acted like nothing had happened. Just how high was his partner's pain threshold?

Brooks fought for composure. How could anyone do that? "Martin, that doesn't look good. You have made it worse." The wound was covered in blood and looked angry, with shredded flesh at the edges. He still had a hard time believing that had actually happened. He should have held onto Martin's wrist tighter, but he'd never expected that! Why would a human being willingly being put himself through that much pain?

"No hospital," Martin said, repeating his demand. "Just patch me up and we're good to go." Roger looked stunned, but the look Avery gave him was a mix of fury and utter defeat and it got to him. What was his captain getting riled up over? This was standard procedure in the field.

"I advice against that," the EMT said, preparing to clean the wound to his best ability. "If we do it here, it'll grow infected; this isn't a sterile environment." During all his years as a paramedic, he'd never seen anyone rip out an arrow like that. "This will hurt," he warned just before disinfecting the wound.

"Do it," Martin hissed from between clenched teeth and shutting out the pain to his best ability. Trying to keep himself distracted, he muttered, "That tickles!"

Brooks exchanged a worried look with Roger. Whatever issues Martin had, they ran much deeper than he'd suspected. "Martin," he said, trying a tactic which had worked earlier, "You heard what the paramedic said. The wound will grow infected. Please let us take you to the hospital. They'll properly clean the wound, bandage it, and then we'll head for my place. I promise that no one is going to do anything against your will, but we need to take care of your injury." If that didn't work, nothing would.

Martin blinked, turned his head slightly, and studied Avery's eyes. He had to admit that his shoulder hurt like hell and the still functioning rational part of his brain insisted on going to the hospital. The emotional part however, fiercely objected. Being at a hospital would complicate matters and get him into trouble.

"Martin, please," Brooks tried one more time.

In the end, the rational part won, damn it. This went against his better judgment, but Avery's concerned look was getting to him.

"Don't let them medicate me, cap. I won't vouch for what will happen if they do." Wrecking havoc on medication was his biggest concern. Normally he'd never give in, but Avery had done that thing again, calling him Martin in that odd way.

"I promise. No medication. They'll just take care of the wound," Brooks said reassuringly, quickly exchanging a look with Roger, who seemed equally relieved now that Martin had given in. He reckoned Roger had tried convincing Martin to get proper treatment before and had failed. That was why he was captain – he got the job done, even the hard ones. "Let's get you into the ambulance."

"No," Martin stated, putting his foot down. It was bad enough they had talked him into going to the hospital. "Not riding the ambulance. Driving the truck." The pain was getting harder to ignore though and he might pass out soon.

"I can't believe this! Stop arguing!" But Brooks knew that getting Martin to the hospital was a priority and it didn't matter if they got there by truck or ambulance. "Let's do this," he told Roger. "I'll drive." Brooks knew time was of the essence. Together, they managed to get Martin to his feet and the injured man swayed dangerously, before finding his footing again. Thankfully they were close to the hospital. "You're going on the passenger's seat," Brooks decided, "where I can keep an eye on you!" A quick look assured him that the paramedic remained close and was already updating the hospital.

Luckily the ex Navy SEAL didn't give them a hard time about it, as he was hanging on by the skin of his teeth. While Brooks started the engine and turned the truck around, Murtaugh got into his own car and followed them.

Brooks' head still reeled from what he'd just witnessed. One thing was sure – once Martin's wound had been taken care of, and the detective had regained his senses, they were going to have a very long and serious conversation.

TBC

Part 8

Being at a hospital gave Martin the creeps. He was out of his element and at the mercy of others, at least it felt that way to him. The only thing that kept him in place and letting the surgeon stitch him up was the fact that Avery was guarding him; the captain blocked the doorway and made sure he let the surgeon do his job.

"Why don't you let me administer a local anesthetic?" The surgeon disliked stitching up his patient without one. He'd sworn an oath to do no harm and now he was intentionally causing pain.

"Trust me, it's not worth the risk." Martin knew better than to try his charm on the surgeon; medical staff tended to be immune to it. "Almost done, buddy?" He hoped so, this was taking way too long. The pain was bearable and he was already dialing it down so it wouldn't hamper him. He'd excelled at that part of his Navy SEAL training. If necessary, he could lock it all out. But leaving a little ache was best, just to remind him that he wasn't at his best and had to take calculated risks instead.

All this reminded Brooks that he'd completely forgotten to check out Martin's file. His whole agenda had been shot to hell, thanks to that unwanted delivery. He'd make up for it as soon as possible. Martin's feet kept moving, swinging back and forth and the facial expression was off. Martin was putting on an act he'd perfected in the past. He might be out of control at times, but this wasn't one of them. Martin Riggs knew exactly what he was doing.

The surgeon finished bandaging the shoulder and guided his patient's arm into the sling he put on. "Be careful and get some rest. No lifting or other strenuous activities. Your shoulder needs to heal. Don't pull those stitches!"

Martin hopped from the bed. "Right, will do, doc!" The surgeon left, easily get passed Avery, but Martin found he wasn't that lucky. The moment the door closed behind the physician, his boss blocked his path again. "We should leave now. We're done here." He didn't want to stay any longer than strictly necessary.

Brooks didn't want to create a scene at a hospital and opened the door. "You're staying in sight. Don't stray. I'll put out a BOLO on you if necessary." Martin merely chuckled, frustrating him further. "We WILL have an in depth discussion about what happened earlier, detective!"

"Yes, sir. Can we leave now?" His anxiety was getting worse and he didn't want to misbehave in a hospital.

"Fine, but you heard me!" Brooks followed Martin out of the ward. Once they stepped outside and into the moonlight, he found Murtaugh waiting for them. "Any news? Did Bailey and Cruz report in?"

"They lost them in traffic," Murtaugh offered ill at ease. "At least we know what they look like. We'll find them," he assured his former partner.

Martin didn't lose a moment and ripped off the sling, deposited it in a trash can, and checked his shoulder's range, which was acceptable. Limiting, but he could make it work.

"Riggs," Brooks and Roger called at the same time, exchanging equally fed up gazes.

"What? I don't need that!" Martin headed for his truck. "Anyone riding with me? According to my partner, I'm too dangerous to be allowed behind the wheels, so captain, you might want to ride with Rog instead." That way he would be free to hunt down the perps that tried to kill his boss. The crossbow they'd used had given him some ideas.

"Not happening," Brooks stated, and this time, his tone made Martin came to a standstill. "I'm riding with you, Riggs, and put the damn sling back on!" He knew what Martin was trying to do and he refused to go along with it. "You're with me."

He pointedly ignored the order to put the sling back on. "Or are you with me, sir?" Martin joked, but cursed privately for having his plans ruined. He would have tracked down that car and found a way to deal with the threat while Roger kept Avery out of trouble.

"Riggs, get in the truck and I'm driving. Murtaugh, keep us in your line of sight. We're heading home. I'm done with this bullshit for today." He was captain. It was time he acted that way!

Judging it best to lay low for now, Martin complied and moved onto the passenger seat, feeling uncomfortable while watching his boss slip behind the wheel. "I can drive," he tried one more time.

"Not happening, Riggs. Accept it." Brooks started driving and looked over his shoulder to make sure Murtaugh tagged along. "You're under doctor's orders. Get some rest, Martin."

Avery didn't fight fair. Seeing he had no choice in the matter, Martin relaxed a little as he didn't expect another attempt on the captain's life so soon. The next time, the perps would be better prepared. Today had just been a test run.

/

Avery spotted the protective detail at once. They were undercover and not standing out, but he knew what to look for. He'd told Ronnie he didn't want it, but his friend overruled any decisions he made, being the City Attorney. His phone showed a message from Roger, telling him the house was secure. Of course they had checked for possible threats. He messaged Roger, telling him that they would spend the night at his place and meet up at the precinct at nine in the morning. Though he suspected Ronnie had taken charge of the operation already.

"Riggs, wake up." Brooks shut down the truck and studied his companion. Martin looked exhausted.

"I'm awake, cap, Don't worry." He'd merely rested his eyes, trying to recall more details about the crossbow he'd been shot with. He'd have to share that information eventually, but first, he wanted to make sure he had all the facts straight. Martin opened the door and slid out of the truck, ignoring Avery who was about to offer his help.

Martin moved slowly and swayed a little, telling Brooks the injury still hampered the younger man. "A good night's sleep will help. We both need some rest." Brooks went inside first, directed Martin toward the living room and put the house alarm back on, changing the combination just to be sure. His maid, Linda, knew the combination so she could come in and clean the place, but he was changing it for the night. That way, he'd sleep more easily. He turned around, about to address Martin when he found the younger man gone. "Where did you go now?" he whispered, frustrated.

"Just checking the doors and windows, making sure nothing has been tampered with. They might try again tonight," Martin explained, exiting the kitchen.

Brooks let him do his sweep, knowing the Texan wouldn't listen to reason before he felt safe. Ten minutes later, Martin stepped back into the living room, and after sitting down on the couch, looked at him. Martin knew what was coming.

"Let me have it then. I have no idea what I did wrong, but that look says it all," Martin muttered and pointed at his captain's face. He honestly had no idea why Avery was this pissed off.

And Brooks believed him. Martin really had no clue why he was upset. Brooks had intended to lecture him, give him a piece of his mind, but he instinctively knew it wasn't what Martin needed. "Don't move away from that couch. If I find you gone, there'll be trouble."

To his surprise his captain headed for the kitchen instead of reading him the riot act. Though, what had he done to deserve that? He'd kept Avery safe!

"Drink this." Brooks handed his guest a mug upon his return and made himself comfortable on the chair opposite Martin. The look on his guest's face was almost comical, but the dried blood sticking to the green jacket killed any amusement on his part.

"What's this?" The hot drink smelled foul and he wasn't going to ingest anything he couldn't identify! Martin's facial features contorted in disgust.

"Herbal tea. Todd's favorite. It always helps me relax after a long day's work."

"Tea?" Fucking herbal tea and Avery seriously expected him to drink it? He glared at the liquid in utter disgust. He wasn't going to drink that. Cahill would, but not him!

Brooks gave him an annoyed look. "You're not getting coffee at this late hour and booze is out of the question." Martin's moping only worsened at hearing that. Watching him sit there, moping over his tea, it was hard to believe the younger man was seriously injured. Martin should be in bed, resting, and giving his body a chance to recuperate. Instead, he'd just carried out a sweep of the house and looked awfully alert sitting there.

"I don't do tea," Martin complained, but sipped anyway since the captain had made it especially for him. He could do grateful. If it meant that much to Avery, he could down the hellish concoction. His time in Iraq had taught him to eat and drink even the most disgusting stuff as long as it helped him survive. "Not my favorite," Martin complained and pointed at the brew. Maybe he could deposit the disgusting tea into a pot while the captain wasn't looking? There were several plants close by, and if he was careful, he might manage ridding himself of the foul drink. How the hell could Todd like it?

Serving Martin Todd's herbal tea was payback for the horrible coffee Riggs had served him that morning, as far as Brooks was concerned. The fact that the other man was drinking it told him a lot, in spite of clearly disliking the tea. "Martin Riggs, I want you to pay close attention. You will obey orders."

Martin arched an eyebrow, trying to mock his boss, but failing, since his shoulder did hurt. He had a fairly good idea what this was about and tried to divert his captain. "Shouldn't we discuss the attempt on your life instead?"

"Tomorrow, after we get some sleep," Brooks said decisively. They'd seen enough action today, and although it was only eleven PM, he was dead on his feet. "You'll let me check that bandage. Answer me, are you bleeding?" That wouldn't surprise him, considering how little regard Martin had for his injury. He could have easily pulled several stitches by now and never tell him.

"You care! I'm touched," Martin said in a faked chipper tone and obeyed, figuring complying would get Avery off his back the quickest. He partly slid down his jacket and shirt and grinned at his captain, revealing the pristine white bandage. "See, it's fine."

Not a speck of blood showed on the bandage, which appeased Brooks for now. "See to it that it stays that way. Now, you'll head upstairs and get into bed. The house is being watched, the alarm is on, and we're safe. Get some sleep, Martin. I'm going to do the same."

Martin wished Avery would stop using his name like that. For some reason it felt like emotional blackmail. Cahill had once accused him of being an emotional terrorist and she had been right to call him that. But Avery excelled at it too – and he detested being the victim this time around. He'd rather be on the other side, doing the emotional blackmailing. But before Avery turned in for the night, his captain should know about that crossbow. "You should check with Special Ops regarding the TAC- 15. It's the crossbow they used. Outdated, but extremely reliable. They used it in Iraq too." And sometimes arms fell into the wrong hands and so he'd ended up being shot at by their own weapons.

Running out of patience, Avery got to his feet and gave his guest an expectant look. "Martin, get some sleep first. We'll look into that tomorrow." He'd text Bailey later, but first he wanted Martin off his feet and in a comfortable bed. "You need to rest."

Martin caved and hung his head. He was tired, wounded, and emotionally exhausted and before he knew it, he whispered, "Why do you keep calling me that? Don't. Just stop."

"What? Martin?" Of course he knew it affected Riggs, that's why he did it. "It's your name, isn't it?" He sat on his heels and tried to catch the other man's gaze. Martin looked dead on his feet and his eyes closed every so often.

"Hardly anyone calls me that these days," he admitted nervously. Not since Miranda had passed away. Ronnie insisted on using it though, probably for the same reason Avery did.

"Well, I do, so get used to it." Brooks couldn't help but wonder if having a son felt like this; he constantly worried and wanted to help even when his help wasn't wanted. But, at times, Martin looked so damn lost and how could he not reach out? How long had it taken him to decide that Martin Riggs was family, just like the Murtaughs had? Three or four days of close contact? Something like that. Well, what was done, was done. He considered Martin Riggs one of his own. "Do you need help?" he asked in a soft voice, as the younger man's eyes closed again. Exhaustion had finally caught up with him. "Come on, let's get you to the guestroom and into bed."

"No, I'm good," Martin muttered, quickly shaking his head in an attempt to drive away the rising fatigue. He moved abruptly, rising from the couch and forgetting about his injury. His shoulder burned and felt stiff, but he pushed the pain away, like he always did. Avery's stern expression told him the captain expected to be obeyed and so he eventually gave in. "Guestroom… are you sure I can't crash on the couch down here?"

"Quite sure. You'll end up on the floor again and your shoulder won't like that. You're more comfortable in bed. Martin, get moving, now." After a defiant look, Martin finally gave in.

"You're bossy," Martin complained as he slowly made his way upstairs. "Don't like you anymore," he added for good measure. He grabbed hold of the railing for support, as he didn't want to end up taking a fall.

Brooks kept a close eye on him and remained one step behind, carefully monitoring his guest's progress. Should Martin fall, he'd catch him and keep him on his feet. The last thing they needed was Martin tumbling off the stairs and aggravating his injury.

After delivering Martin to the guestroom, he gave his guest some privacy and a few minutes to settle down for the night. Then he'd check on him to make sure he was in bed and not sleeping on the floor. He sent Bailey that text and then poured himself some scotch. Damn, he needed that!

/

Seated on the bed, Martin carefully considered his options. Avery was right. They were safe for the night, he was wounded, and could do with some shuteye. After evaluating his situation, he curled up on his side, still fully clothed. On the bed, yes, as he didn't want Avery to lecture him again. He felt cold and shivered; it made him gingerly slip beneath the comforter, trying to keep warm. Sleeping in a bed was something he'd never get used to again, not after his time in the military. A bed was too soft and felt all wrong.

For a while Miranda's soothing presence had helped, and wrapping his arms around her and holding her close had made him feel safe, but she was gone now. Looking at the picture on his phone, his heart painfully contracted, reminding him of his loss – his failure. He'd failed her, but he wouldn't fail again. He'd keep Avery safe. He wasn't going to lose him as well.

/

"How's the idiot doing?" Roger inquired over the phone, worriedly.

"Asleep if he knows what's good for him," Brooks commented smugly. "I confined him to his room. Are kids always this much trouble?" Roger instantly chuckled, confirming his worst fears.

"Not always. Not all of them, but to be honest, Riggs is the worst. At times, it feels like I have four kids instead of three, but he's yours for the moment, so enjoy the parenting experience!"

"I never expected him to accept me like that," Brooks admitted as he switched off the light downstairs and conducted one last check. Finding everything in order, he moved upstairs.

"He sees you as a father figure," Roger mused. "He needs one and you're perfect for the job." He grew silent for a moment before asking, "Do you want that job? Cause, if you let him down, it'll get ugly." The speed at with Riggs and he had bonded as a team, had surprised Roger, and he knew it would be the same with Brooks. But Riggs didn't handle rejection well. If Brooks went back on that friendship, it would mess up Riggs real good.

"Warning noted," Brooks replied earnestly, realizing Roger was deadly serious. "I won't start anything I won't finish." Martin's door was once more ajar and the lamp on the night stand switched on. Growing curious, he asked, "He spent nights at your place too, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he ended up crashing on the couch quite a few times," Roger confirmed.

Brooks frowned, realizing his guest had gone to sleep fully dressed and with his boots still on. That couldn't be comfortable. At least he had the good sense to keep warm. "Does he always sleep with the light on?" Children often did that, but adults? When he'd read books on parenting, back when Todd and he had wanted to adopt, he'd come across accounts from traumatized kids who were scared to sleep in the dark. There had always been an abusive background story. Learning Martin came from a similar background wouldn't surprise him. Losing his wife and baby was traumatic without doubt, but Martin's behavior didn't quite fit the profile. Something else was going on.

"Sometimes," Roger admitted after thinking it over. "Usually when he's drunk or distressed." He hadn't given it any thought before, assuming Riggs had simply forgotten to switch off the lights.

"Well, he isn't drunk at the moment, so that leaves distressed?" Brooks cringed, disliking his current train of thoughts, but at the same time, determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Good luck figuring him out. I'm still working on it."

Sighing, Brooks realized he might need it and switched topics. "Any information yet on that TAC-15 he mentioned?" Reassured that his guest was asleep, Brooks moved away from the guestroom. He'd check on him again during the night to make sure the wound wasn't acting up. Or, which was more likely, nightmares disturbing his sleep.

"Cruz is looking into it and forensics is working on analyzing the arrow. We'll have more information in the morning. The City Attorney called; he wants to be part of tomorrow's meeting, which he moved to ten as he has prior engagements."

Which was fine with him as it meant they could get more sleep and take things easy in the morning. "We'll be there. Night, Roger."

"See you tomorrow."

Brooks placed the phone on the nightstand, changed into his favorite pair of pajamas, and got into bed. To his surprise, it didn't take him long to fall asleep, especially considering the day he'd had.

TBC

Part 9

His subconscious automatically registered the peculiar noise and promptly woke him. Opening his eyes, Martin focused on the irregularity and realized it was coming from the attic. Not taking any chances with Avery in the house, he got to his feet, uncovered his gun and soundlessly moved down the corridor. That first night he'd also checked the attic and memorized the lay out. A staircase at the end of the corridor lead up to the attic which was used as a storage area. There was a skylight, he recalled that much. It was a possible point of entry. Did the house alarm cover that too? It was better not to take any chances and to check on it.

Controlling his breathing and staying still he listened. Yes, there it was again. The noise would easily go unnoticed to the untrained ear. His military training although made sure he picked up on it. Heading upstairs wasn't an option, as the intruder was already approaching. He wouldn't be able to surprise him. His best option was to wait and ambush him. It was a good thing Avery's room was at the very end of the corridor as the intruder had to get past him in order to get to his target. The perp would only pass over his dead body!

Martin took up position and waited, regretting he didn't have a chance to alert whoever was staking out Avery's place. Had Murtaugh headed home? Where were Bailey and Cruz? Outside or at the precinct? He couldn't use his phone anyway, the display would alert the intruder. Pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to make himself invisible, he watched the intruder sneak closer. Body posture indicated it might be the driver that had gotten away earlier. The guy with the Stetson had been bulkier. He should be able to take out a single trespasser, even though his shoulder still hampered him. He just had to be careful when engaging in physical combat.

The intruder sneaked close enough for Martin to make his move. Once the man appeared next to him, he wrapped an arm around his neck, twisted it, and placed his gun at the man's temple. The guy had incredible reflexes though, which merely confirmed his earlier hunch that he was dealing with military men. The intruder twisted away, raised his gun, and aimed at him. Damn that shoulder, as it slowed down his reactions. If he hadn't been injured, the guy would never have surprised him!

Due to the silencer the attacker used, there was hardly any sound when he fired. But Martin's gun blasted away and the perp went down, hit in the chest. Martin had aimed for the shoulder, but his aim was slightly off though due to his injury. Severely injured, the intruder went down and stayed down. Damn, he hadn't wanted to shoot to kill! He'd wanted to interrogate the bastard instead! He only had himself to blame for messing up the operation.

/

Brooks woke with a start, quickly sat upright and switched on the light. Had he really heard a gunshot? Shuffling in the corridor confirmed his suspicions and he grabbed his gun before carefully opening the door. He blinked at seeing Riggs sitting on his heels next to a body. What the hell was going on here? "Martin?" He moved closer, came to a halt next to the younger man, and realized what had happened.

Martin quickly updated the captain. "He snuck in via the skylight in the attic. My guess is that the house alarm doesn't cover it." Martin uncovered his phone, and as Roger was probably at home with his family, called Cruz instead, who quickly answered. After explaining the situation and updating the other detective, he shifted his attention to his captain. "They're on their way. Sorry for turning your home into a crime scene." This was his fault. If only his shoulder hadn't hampered him. He'd caused them valuable information as the intruder might have told them what was going on.

Brooks, who had been staring at the body, looked at Martin instead. "Seems to me like you didn't have much of a choice." His wall now sported a impressive bullet hole. What would Todd say to that? At least this time, Martin had managed not to get injured! "Why didn't you wake me?" Taking him out two to one would have been easier. But the sorrowful expression in the younger man's eyes told him all he needed to know. Because Martin had wanted to protect him – to know him safe.

"Sorry, cap, didn't think of it. Lots of blood loss earlier makes it hard to focus." He studied the intruder's weapon, knowing from personal experience that Special Ops favored these firearms. Why the hell was the military involved in this? Were these rogues? Or maybe hired assassins?

Brooks didn't buy Martin's explanation at all. "Next time, wake me!" He planned on bringing it up later, but had to answer the door first, since someone continued to knock rather insistently. "I need to get that." He descended the staircase, switched off the alarm, and opened the door. Bailey moved in at once, closely followed by Cruz, both of them quickly checking on him and making sure he was fine. Realizing they could do with some assurance, Brooks explained, "We're both fine." Brooks tilted his head, indicating Martin's current position. "Riggs is still in one piece too."

"Good to know," Bailey muttered as she made way for the rest of the team moving in to search the house for evidence. "We should probably get you someplace safe," she added uncertainly. What was she to do? Avery was her boss and hadn't given her orders yet. She was hesitant to take the initiative in this case since he wasn't a helpless victim, but a LAPD captain.

Cruz sneaked a peek upstairs and caught sight of the corpse. "Riggs shot him?" Why didn't that surprise him?

"Yes, unfortunately." But Brooks knew that Forensics was adapt at finding even the smallest lead. He'd leave the crime scene to them. Bailey and Cruz watched him and he realized they were waiting for orders. A quick look confirmed that Martin was still upstairs. "I'll get dressed and then we'll head for the precinct. We'll operate from there."

"With all due respect, sir, but wouldn't a safe house be better?" Bailey suggested. She worried about her captain's safety.

"I'm not letting them intimidate me," Brooks said resolutely. "We're heading for the precinct, just give me ten." He headed back upstairs, quickly got dressed, and drew in a deep breath upon stepping back into the corridor. Scorsese had arrived and was already searching the body for clues. "Where's Riggs?" he asked, upon noticing his detective's absence.

"Attic, he wanted to have a look at the point of entry," Scorsese updated him.

Brooks headed upstairs too. A team was already working the scene and forced Riggs to keep his distance. "Anything interesting?"

"I'm not sure," Martin said waveringly. "Something's bugging me, this doesn't add up. The things happening at the precinct, the notes and box seem child play compared to what happened at the restaurant and now this. Our intruder knew what he was doing. That guy downstairs might be military, cap."

"We'll find out eventually. Come on, we're heading back to the precinct. We need to start working this case in earnest."

"So you're finally taking it serious?" Hearing that pleased Martin.

The younger man was right, Brooks mused. "I have to, now that you got shot and someone tried to murder me in my home." Thank God Todd wasn't at home! He'd call his partner and tell him to stay away for now. More officers appeared and it was getting crowded. "We should leave and let them work."

Martin wasn't sure his opinion was wanted, but spoke his mind anyway. "Wouldn't a safe house be better, cap?"

Brooks huffed. "You sound like Bailey."

"Smart girl," he muttered and scanned the attic one last time. He wouldn't underestimate his opponents again now that he knew he was dealing with professionals!

/

"If something like this ever happens again, wake me, Martin. Do you hear me? Don't let me sleep while you move in on your own. I can cover your back!" Brooks had opted to drive back in the truck, only allowing Martin to take the wheel after fiercely protesting the decision. The younger man was incredibly pig-headed and had refused to back down.

"Wasn't necessary." Martin shrugged it off and immediately regretted it, as the motion irritated his shoulder. "I'd rather know you safe than having to worry about you tagging along." He still didn't agree with heading for the precinct, but Avery WAS his captain. A patrol car drove in front of them, and one trailed behind them, shielding them from possible attacks. Martin approved of the protective detail. Avery didn't find it necessary, but hadn't been given a choice in the matter.

Brooks sighed exasperated, wondering if he'd ever get through to Martin Riggs. Maybe Cahill had some pointers? He might seek her out for advice later. His phone alerted him of an incoming call, making him roll his eyes, as he caught the caller's ID. Why was this such a big deal to them? "Ronnie, isn't a bit early to be calling me? Shouldn't you still be asleep?" It was only five in the morning for crying out loud.

Martin grinned and felt sympathetic, having been Ronnie's target himself more than once.

"Can you blame me, Brooks? I just heard what happened! Are you fine?"

"Ronnie, I'm still in one piece, settle down. Riggs shot the guy."

"Did Martin get hurt again? I hurt he was shot earlier."

Martin? Brooks frowned, puzzled that Ronnie would know and call a detective by his first name, but then again, it had been Delgado asking him to find Riggs a partner within his department. "Yes, he did get shot, but had the wound treated. He's fine." Ronnie's relieved sigh surprised him. His friend seemed genuinely worried about Riggs! He was tempted to ask what that was about, but eventually decided against it, as he didn't want to do this over the phone. "Are we still on for that ten AM meeting?"

"Yes, hopefully we'll have more information by then. Take care, Brooks, be careful!"

"Don't worry that much, Ronnie. Everything will be fine." Brooks ended the call and looked at Martin, studying the younger man. "The City Attorney worries about you."

Martin didn't react at once. He knew Ronnie worried, but the older man really shouldn't. Avery didn't know the real reason though and Martin opted for diversion. "Well, that makes sense, I saved your life, didn't I?" No way was he bringing up his personal relationship where his father in law was concerned. He didn't want any of them to know about that.

It did make sense, Brooks admitted, but he still felt puzzled.

/

Brooks was glad to have his office back, even though it felt tainted. He couldn't simply pretend nothing had happened in there. He still smelled blood, although it was merely his imagination playing tricks on him.

"Brought you something if you want it." Martin remained in the doorway, offering his captain some coffee. Avery looked troubled and Martin had a good idea what was going on in the older man's head. Coming back in couldn't be easy.

"Did you make it?" he asked and then much softer, "In that case I might pass." Brooks drew in a steadying breath and gestured for his detective to approach.

"No, is that a good or a bad thing?" Frowning, he stepped into the office and handed his boss the hot drink.

"Definitely a good thing." Brooks chuckled and accepted the coffee as he needed the caffeine. Seeing the odd expression on Martin's face, he hoped the younger man wasn't up to any shenanigans. Making sure, he asked, "You didn't add any liquor to it, did you?" Or anything else?

"Who me?" Martin acted utterly offended and shook his head dramatically. "Never!" He wouldn't do that, considering the situation they were in. Maybe once things had settled down it might be fun to prank the captain. He had the feeling Avery might let him get away with it.

Brooks studied the younger man. "And did you add some to yours?"

"No, I didn't," Martin replied, having no problems admitting the truth. "Need my wits about me." He'd probably get pissed once this was over, but not yet. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet." Brooks felt frustrated. They desperately needed a break. "Hopefully we'll learn more in two hours."

The team would meet at ten AM. He nodded and was about to leave when Brooks stopped him.

"Martin?"

He flinched. He really had to tell Avery to stop calling him that. "Yes, cap?" He turned around and forced himself to smile and meet the older man's gaze.

Making sure there could be no misunderstanding him, Brooks said in an earnest tone, "You saved my life twice and I'm thankful, but don't do it again. Stop endangering your life. I'm serious. Stop it." Martin's facial expression, the way the detective smoothed his hair away from his face and the nervous shuffling of his feet told him the younger man didn't know how to react. Good, at least he'd gotten his point across and Martin knew he meant business. "I'm serious. I don't want you to die while protecting me. I can take care of myself." Martin's disregard for his own safety was something he couldn't allow. He had to make sure the Texan understood that self sacrifice wasn't what he wanted. The look the younger man gave him indicated that his message had been received loud and clear. That same expression also told him that Martin didn't care and would carry on as before. That damn, stubborn man!

Rationally, Martin understood what Avery was telling him. Emotionally, it was a different matter. He desperately wanted to protect the people he cared about and it didn't matter to him if he got hurt in the process. He had so many mistakes to make up for! "I know you can defend yourself, captain," he admitted eventually, but didn't comment on the rest. It was best not to address that emotional crap. "Want something to eat too? You missed breakfast." Truth be told, he'd liked having breakfast with Avery. It had been nice to have company for a change.

"As long as it doesn't come from the vending machine, I'll eat," Brooks relented, realizing he was actually hungry now that Martin had brought it up.

"Damn, that was the idea." Maybe he could get some sandwiches instead? Running a hand through his unruly hair, he regretted that the vending machine – the easiest solution to his problem – was no option.

Brooks smiled watching Martin leave. Which reminded him of his original plan; to read up on his detective and work through the man's personal file.

/

Getting his hands on Martin Riggs' files proved harder than he expected. Partly because of his association with the Navy SEALS and there were sealed files as well, regarding his juvenile records which needed clearing. He would get them, but arranging everything took time, which frustrated him, but he could be patient if needed.

Martin surprised him again by dropping off sandwiches and more coffee before the detective headed for his desk. Murtaugh and Riggs were bantering and it made him smile, recalling fond times when Roger had still been his partner. Teaming those two up had been an excellent move, even though at the time he hadn't been sure it would work out. He looked up as someone knocked and he nodded at Bailey, telling her to enter.

'Captain? The files you requested." She walked over to his desk and handed him the envelop.

"Thanks, Bailey," he said, giving her a smile. "That's all." She nodded and left, leaving him staring at the sealed envelope on his desk. He felt bad for doing this behind Martin's back, but he had to know what he was up against.

TBC

Part 10

Fifteen minutes later, Brooks put the file down because his head reeled. It was much worse than he'd thought.

He'd first started on Martin's juvenile records, which were rather harmless – just a few misdemeanors. He'd expected something like that. Finding out that Martin's mother had taken her own life had been unexpected and shocked him. The chemo apparently wasn't working and her cancer grew more prolific. So, she had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

Social reports, filed at a slightly later date, told of the shocking abuse young Martin Riggs had suffered at his alcoholic father's hands. Social services had suspected things were bad, but hadn't been able to intervene at that point.

And then, when he'd thought the worst was behind him, he found the case file on the shooting that had taken place at the Riggs' family home. Jake Voss, a childhood friend, ended up shooting Nathan Riggs because he was beating up his son – again.

Brooks drew in a deep breath and was careful not to look at Martin, who was currently sitting at his desk and annoying his partner. He'd suspected something bad had happened during the younger man's childhood, but not in a million years had he thought it was that bad. It explained a lot, he reckoned, like Martin sleeping with the lights on. Having it on would help him feel safer, because then he would have seen his father approach. This was heavy stuff and he wasn't sure he wanted to continue reading.

But, knowing he couldn't stop now, he turned the page and read about Martin Riggs joining the military, ending up a Navy SEAL and excelling at it. Riggs did three tours in Iraq. He knew enough of that war to know it had been hell for the soldiers stationed there. Considering Martin had been a Navy SEAL at the time, the young man had been thrown into desperate situations. He'd probably lost the little sanity he'd left while stationed there. Returning as a veteran, Riggs' options had been limited and he had joined El Paso's police force.

The next case file was on Miranda Riggs and the car crash the pregnant woman had been in. It was the thing that had made Martin finally snap. Brooks briefly closed his eyes and drew in a series of deep breaths in order to compose himself again.

The next thing he encountered was Ronnie's request to have Martin Riggs transferred to the LAPD and to partner him up with someone of Brooks' choosing. His thoughts still raced as he closed the files, sliding them back into the envelop and locking them away in the bottom drawer of his desk. He didn't want anyone to accidentally get their hands on this private information. He already suffered from a guilty conscience himself, but at least he finally understood the trauma Martin had suffered. It definitely explained the young man's death wish, which drove him to act in such a careless manner.

"Hey, Cap, it's almost time, wanna join us?" Martin opened the door to Avery's office and peeked inside. Brooks didn't appear well. The man was awfully pale and looked like he was about to throw up. "Can I get you something? You look bad. More threatening notes we don't know about?" Had Avery received another threat?

Brooks forced himself to meet Martin' gaze. Damn, he felt guilty for reading up on the younger man, and even more so, for doing it behind his back. "No, no new threats and yes, more coffee would be nice." Hopefully Martin wouldn't pressure him into telling why he looked ill.

"Sure, I'll get you some." Maybe everything which had happened lately had suddenly hit Avery? It was the only thing Martin could think of and it did make sense.

"We're getting ready, Riggs. Are you coming?" Murtaugh headed for the conference room where Forensics had already gathered.

"Just getting coffee for the cap!" Martin filled up a mug, turned about and walked straight into Ronnie Delgado. Damn, his timing sucked.

"Marty," Ronnie quickly looked over his son in law. "I heard you were shot."

Martin didn't want to do this right now; out in the open and with so many curious eyes on them. "I'm fine. Can we do this later?" His shoulder still ached, but it wasn't that bad. He'd suffered worse.

Ronnie nodded. "Remember that promise. Meet me in the break room once the meeting is over. I want more than a "I'm fine," from you, son." Taking pity on him he headed over to the conference room. Hopefully Martin knew he expected a more in depth conversation later.

Brooks wondered about the hushed exchange between Martin and Ronnie. He hadn't heard what was said, but the emotion on both their faces was obvious. Martin appeared shocked, or maybe embarrassed, while Ronnie simply looked worried. There was history between those two men, he was convinced of that and he'd find out what it was all about, but after the briefing.

/

Martin stayed in the back during the briefing, as he didn't want to draw Ronnie's attention again. He was content to listen and maybe contribute if he could.

"The murder attempt on Captain Avery was carried out using a TAC-15," Colonel Shepley, who had joined them, confirmed. "All TAC-15's are registered and we found one missing. We're trying to track it down and arrest the thief. We suspect a Sergeant Blake abstracted it from our San Diego base."

Brooks narrowed his eyes. So Martin had been right when he'd told them to look for the TAC-15.

"Unfortunately the arrow was too contaminated to identify fingerprints or DNA," Shepley added, regretfully.

Martin was about to mockingly apologize for bleeding on it, but kept still, as Ronnie's presence made him cautious. Roger gave him a look, which told him his partner expected him to say something sarcastic, but he merely shook his head. Not now.

"Thank you, Colonel Shepley," Ronnie said, taking charge of the briefing. "Misses Robinson, I appreciate you joining us, but I must admit to wondering why."

"Special Ops wants a representative to sit in on this case," Robinson said, sternly addressing the City Attorney.

Brooks felt equally puzzled. Why was Special Ops getting involved? Robinson, a middle-aged blond, clad in a tailored black suit, had shown up quite unexpectedly.

"We identified the man that invaded your home, Captain Avery," she said, "that's why I am here. Special Ops is willing to share, considering the LAPD is involved."

Martin had the feeling he wasn't going to like whatever she had to say.

"His name is Ron Fitchett, honorably discharged a month ago. He wanted to settle down on a farm in Alabama. We didn't suspect any foul play on his part and didn't monitor his whereabouts. He was a good and loyal operative, no misconduct in the past," Robinson stated. "The last place we expected to find him was in your home, Captain."

Well, at least now he knew whom they were up against, Martin noted, and he didn't particularly like those odds. Not with the army and Special Ops involved. The rest continued talking, but he blocked it out as he needed to think. This whole mess didn't make sense and that was why they weren't solving the case. Maybe they had it all wrong? "If I may?" he said, interrupting whomever was talking. Turned out it was Ronnie, who, after giving him a surprised look, nodded encouragingly.

"What do you want to say?" His son in law made a great cop and had good instincts. Whatever Martin had to say, it would be worth listening to.

"Thanks," Martin replied, leaning against the wall and hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself. "What if we're looking at this all wrong? Think about it, the notes, the box from hell, that's harassment. That's cops sending their captain a message that they really want him to resign, but that's about it. Harassment." Ronnie gave him a curious look.

"Go on," Ronnie urged on his son in law. Maybe Martin was onto something.

Turned it was helpful to have the City Attorney on his side and willing to listen. "And then there are these murder attempts. One of them carried out with a tactical weapon used by the army and the other by a Special Ops guy breaking and entering the captain's home. Those attempts were carried out by professionals. No harassment, just a business transaction carried out by professionals. We're dealing with two separate cases here. And what about the guy with the Stetson? What do you know about him?" he asked, addressing Robinson.

"About that," Robinson replied, looking far from happy being there. "We think his name is Chris Mayer, Fitchett's former partner. The Stetson's his trademark."

"There's something you're not telling us," Martin realized. She was holding back.

"He's still on active duty and our best sniper."

"Now that's what I call dropping a bomb shell," Murtaugh muttered, trying to do away with the tension building in the room.

Martin didn't like their odds at all. He'd been on sniper duty in Iraq and knew how much damage a sniper could do. "What are the chances of two Special Ops agents going rogue?" With one dead and one still after Avery.

"Small… they might be acting on someone's order," Robinson admitted. "Captain Avery," she said, turning about to face him. "You have our full cooperation. We want to help."

"Cap, are there any cases you started working on about a month ago that stand out?" Martin had reached his own conclusion. Avery must have happened upon something lethal without realizing it.

Brooks shook his head. "I have no idea. I'm working on so many cases…"

"We have to start digging," Murtaugh announced, addressing everyone in the room, but Bailey and Cruz in particular. He had faith in their capacities. "What are we waiting for?"

Colonel Shepley and Robinson moved to another office to confer amongst themselves, while Murtaugh, Bailey and Cruz hit the computers. Martin was about to join them, when Ronnie stopped him.

"Martin, I want a word with you."

Fuck, why did Ronnie have to do this in front of Avery? He was tempted to keep walking, but also knew he couldn't dismiss the City Attorney. He rubbed his brow, fumbled with his hair, and turned around to face the older man. "Not now," he pleaded.

"Now, Marty, we need to talk and you know it."

Brooks felt confused; curiously enough he felt like an intruder, privy to a conversation he shouldn't be witnessing. Both men acted like they knew each other and his gaze kept shifting between them, trying to figure out what was going on. What had he missed? Neither Ronnie, nor Martin acknowledged him any longer and he stood still, thinking it best not to draw their attention. Hearing Ronnie call Riggs Martin was one thing; he did that too, but Marty? That sounded personal, intimate even. If only he knew what was happening! At the moment, it made no sense.

"Later, Ronnie, please!" Martin half glared, half pleaded with his father in law not to do this now – not in front of his captain.

And Riggs addressing the City Attorney in that way? Calling him Ronnie? And Delgado was seemingly used to it, as he wasn't berating the detective. This was personal, deeply personal, Brooks realized. These two knew each other – knew each other well. Brooks did his utmost to appear neutral, but it was hard. His heart went out to Martin Riggs, who clearly felt overwhelmed.

Ronnie failed to keep quiet any longer. "You got shot!" Ronnie exclaimed, frustrated now that Martin refused to deal with the situation. "I already buried my daughter, Marty. Do you want me to bury her husband too? Do you really want to break my heart, son?"

Brooks' eyes widened; revelation was sudden and complete. Son in law? Wait, Ronnie lost his oldest daughter in a car crash a year ago and her name was…. Miranda? Had that been Riggs' wife? Miranda Riggs, nee Delgado? That couldn't be… or was it? Looking at Ronnie's expression, he was sure he'd reached the right conclusion after all. Martin Riggs was Ronnie's son in law. He'd never suspected a thing!

Martin had forgotten about Avery's presence, as he was solely focused on his father in law. "Ronnie, you need to stop doing this. I'm no longer family. You need to forget about me. Miranda was your family, I'm not. You need to let me go."

Martin's words fully confirmed Brooks' suspicions and it shocked him that he had never looked any closer, had never realized the relationship between Martin Riggs and Ronnie Delgado. He should have started digging the moment Ronnie requested Martin's transfer to the LAPD.

"Son, don't ask that of me. Don't you ever say that again." Ronnie covered the distance between them, gently placed his hands on Martin's shoulders and waited for his son in law to meet his eyes. "Marty, you're family. You'll always be family!" If only he would get through to the younger man! But Martin didn't think himself worthy of such love and loyalty – he knew that. He could only hope that Martin lived long enough to start believing it one day.

Martin's eyes grew moist with tears, and although Brooks felt emotional as well, he managed to stay composed. Were the other two men even still aware of his presence or had they completely forgotten about him?

"You have to let me go, Ronnie." Martin abruptly stepped back, breaking the physical contact and practically fled the room. He needed to get out. He needed to breathe!

Ronnie, finally regaining his composure, felt frustrated and watched his son in law take off. Only now did he register his friend's presence and stunned look.

"Brooks, sorry about that." It hadn't been his intention to drag Brooks into this mess. "It's impossible to get through to him. Marty blames himself for my daughter's death, but it was an accident." His heart filled with regret as he knew the truth, but he could never share it. He couldn't divulge his connection to the drugs cartel. "They were made for each other. Miranda was happy and when the accident happened… Martin, he…" Ronnie's voice forsook him and he stared out of the window instead. "Maybe someone should go after him; he might do something stupid; it wouldn't be the first time."

Brooks doubted he was the right person to go after Martin, but someone had to. The blinds were down so no one had witnessed the emotional exchange except him. "I'll check on him. Why didn't you tell me, Ronnie?"

Ronnie shrugged. "Marty's a very private man, Brooks. He didn't want anyone to know we're related, and…" At the time, he'd had an ulterior motive regarding the transfer.

"And what?"

"He needs someone to look out for him, a father figure maybe, and now that Miranda is gone, and Martin shutting me out, I'd hoped that you… I don't know why, but I thought you might be able to reach him."

Brooks blinked in surprise. "But he already has you! You're his father in law!"

Ronnie hung his head. "As far as Martin is concerned, I no longer am. After Miranda died, he shut me out. With her gone, he no longer believes he's worthy to be part of the family."

"Don't cut yourself short, Ronnie. Riggs cares about you. Give him time. And I'll talk to him. I'll call you later and let you know how it went."

"Thanks, you're a good friend." His heart felt heavy and burdened, knowing he couldn't help his son in law. But maybe Brooks could.

/

Murtaugh caught Avery marching toward his desk and wondered about the shock on his friend's face, "Looking for something?" Riggs had practically fled the captain's office a minute ago. His partner had headed straight for his desk, had removed his breast flask from the bottom drawer, and had then stepped into the elevator. The look on Riggs' face had spelled trouble with a capital T.

"Not something, but someone," Brooks corrected, searching for his elusive detective.

"Let me guess, Riggs?" Avery nodded and Murtaugh grinned smugly. "Try the morgue. Whenever he's running he tends to hide there."

"The morgue?" He'd never have thought of checking there. "Thanks, Roger." Why would anyone want to hide in the morgue?

"Riggs, is he in trouble?" It wouldn't be the first time and he worried about his partner.

"No, he isn't," Brooks said reassuringly, "I just need to talk to him." Brooks approved of Roger's concern and was glad he'd partnered them up. He headed for the elevator, caught Roger following him and put his foot down, saying, "No, you're going back to work and stop hovering!" Roger worried about him, he knew that, but everyone's concern was getting on his nerves. Roger tried to protest, but Brooks shook his head. "That's an order, detective Murtaugh!"

Amused, Roger sat down and returned to his online search. If that was the way Avery wanted to play it, it was fine with him. He trusted his former partner to look after himself.

TBC

Part 11

Brooks rode the elevator to the morgue and searched the exam rooms. Roger turned out to be right; Martin was sitting on an exam table, glaring at his breast flask, probably because it was empty. Finding Martin turned to booze the moment the younger man felt overwhelmed worried him. Martin looked up when he moved closer and the Texan sighed deeply.

It could have been worse. At least it wasn't Ronnie seeking him out. Martin reckoned Avery was the lesser of two evils. "Hey, cap!" He tried hiding the breast flask, but Avery had already seen it. "Any news on our Stetson guy?" Sliding his fingers through his hair, he messed it up further, making sure he could hide behind the longer strands. Avery sat down next to him and Martin fought down the impulse to jump to his feet and flee the room.

"Not yet, but I'm certain he'll show up sooner or later." Brooks wasn't sure how to approach this. He didn't have much experience in the father-son department, but his mother had done a good job and he wasn't afraid to get emotionally involved. He just had to figure out what worked. "I had no idea Ronnie is your father in law," he said eventually, reaching for an opening.

Martin shrugged; Avery was way more tactful than he'd thought. He'd expected his captain to reprimand him instead. "It's not something I want people to know about."

Brooks tilted his head and studied those brown eyes, which were still a bit blurry. Martin's emotions were very close to the surface and finding his breast flask empty had probably been a huge disappointment. Brooks however counted it as a win. Talking to a sober Riggs was challenging any day, but a drunk Riggs was much worse. "He greatly cares about you."

"I know that," Martin acknowledged, nervously wringing his hands and trying to compose himself. "He shouldn't though." Why hadn't he refilled the flask? He desperately needed a drink; he was drowning in guilt and getting drunk was his usual way to deal with all those confusing emotions.

Brooks smiled gently. "You can't control other people's feelings, Martin. If someone likes you, they care about you. If they grow close to you, that affection deepens. Watching Ronnie just now, I'd say he loves you. As far as that man is concerned you're his son. Ronnie cares and you can't stop that. It's the way it is."

Cringing, Martin wished the floor would open and swallow him. Were they really having this conversation? "Cap –"

Brooks interrupted him. "My name's Brooks, use it, Martin." The younger man shivered violently and Brooks hated doing this to him, but this was his chance to break through Martin's defenses. It could be the only chance he'd ever get.

"Captain," Martin whispered, desperately trying to avoid another emotional attachment. Tension got the better of him and he gave into his little tick to scratch his neck. When had that started? "I know you mean well, but don't bother." Each and every day, he hoped that some criminal would finally kill him so he could be with Miranda again. It would all be over soon – he held onto that.

"I know you have a hard time accepting this, Martin, but I care, much like Ronnie does. Roger does too and I wouldn't be surprised to hear Trish is looking into officially adopting you. Cahill checks on you because she cares. Do you really think she does that with every patient? No, but she does check on you. Cruz obviously idolizes you. Some time ago, I caught him mimicking the way you walk and Bailey was making him fun of him, but in a friendly way. You have a family here, Martin, even if you don't want it."

That had been a long and more intense speech than he'd planned, but considering he was talking to Martin Riggs, he didn't have much of a choice. "It's your decision whether or not to let us in. We can't force you to do that, but you can't force us to stop caring either. In the end, it's your call, Martin, and we'll wait until you're ready to make your decision."

Martin smoothed his hair to the side, stubbornly avoided Avery's gaze, and stared at the wall instead. He credited the older man for making the effort, he really did. He just didn't believe he was worth it.

"Don't say anything yet. Process it first." Brooks phrased it that way on purpose, and when Martin chuckled, he knew they'd mastered another crisis. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"

"Yeah, we probably should. Someone out there is still trying to kill you. And a sniper at that. You do know how to draw in the right crowd, cap." He jumped to his feet, tucked away the flask, and cautiously stretched.

"How's the shoulder?" Brooks inclined his head toward the exit and Martin started moving. He followed the younger man over to the elevator and hoped the wound wasn't bleeding. He should check on it, knowing Martin tended to ignore any discomfort.

"Fine," Martin answered truthfully. The injury wasn't causing problems and healing up. "I'll swing by the break room first since I skipped lunch!"

While riding the elevator to the right floor, Brooks shook his head disapprovingly. "Cheese puffs aren't lunch, Riggs!"

"Ah, well, you're just jealous!" Martin's mood darkened again upon finding Ronnie still around. The City Attorney was conferring with Shepley and Robinson. He quickly headed for the break room, amused to hear Avery make fun of his eating habits.

"Maybe that vending machine also offers some healthy options," Brooks stated, following Martin, enjoying baiting him a little. The moment he stepped into his office, the reality of being on someone's kill list would claim him again. "For what it's worth, I agree," he started, watching Martin raiding the vending machine. "These are two separate cases."

"I think so too," Martin replied, before stuffing his face with cheese puffs. "I worry about the Special Ops guy though."

An officer entered the break room, heading for the vending machine too, and Martin stepped aside to make way. He leaned against the wall, waiting for the new arrival to be done and leave the room. "What's our next move, cap?"

Avery turned around; enough procrastinating. He had tons of files to work his way through, trying to find the one case which had triggered the attempts on his life. "More paperwork."

Martin hated paperwork, but it was a necessary evil, especially if they wanted to find out what the hell was going on. An odd sound triggered his senses and he spun around, totally focused on what was happening behind him. Suddenly, he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun. Not a cop's gun, he noticed, his training kicking in. Customized, heavy caliber, used to kill, not warn or injure. Looked like Mayer had just found them. His options at that point were limited. He could draw his gun and shoot the guy, but there was no time. Mayer would fire anyway, leaving him with only one option.

Martin moved fast. He pushed Avery out of the way, so his captain was no longer in the line of fire. Avery was safe now, but that bullet was still airborne. It impacted a moment later, producing a sickening wet sound as it tore itself a way through his shoulder and lodging itself deeply inside his collarbone. Still high on adrenaline, he called out his partner's name, alerting the rest. "Murtaugh!" The second bullet was the one that nearly caused him to lose consciousness. It hit him in the abdomen and the accompanying pain made him cry out.

Brooks quickly moved out of harm's way and immediately took action, calling out, "Shots fired! Officer down!" He drew his gun, spun around, and repeatedly fired at the shooter. He'd always been a good shot and hit Mayer in the head the first time. He fired again, just to make sure Mayer was really down and aimed for the heart, not taking any risks.

"Riggs!" Within seconds he was at Martin's side, taking inventory and growing pale at finding his detective hadn't just been shot once, but twice. Blood gushed from the young man's abdomen, telling him how severe the injury was. There was no time to lose! "I need paramedics in here!" He pressed against the wound, trying to slow down the bleeding, as he noticed more blood, this time running down the younger man's shoulder. "Don't! Don't you dare die on me, Riggs! I need help here!" Panic almost overwhelmed him, but he forced himself to remain calm instead. He had to take charge!

Martin found it hard to stay focused. The rapid blood loss causing him to slow down and unconsciousness setting in. He fought to remain alert though. Avery had shot Mayer so he reckoned the captain wasn't too badly injured or not at all. In that case, he'd die a happy man. Murtaugh appeared, yelling orders and giving him a look Riggs knew only too well, telling him he'd fucked up again, but… wait for it… he didn't care. Mission accomplished. Avery was safe and he was about to join Miranda – finally.

Ronnie marched into the break room and stared at Martin in shock. His worst fear had finally come true; a pool of blood forming beneath his son in law. The blood loss was rapid and immense. Martin's face was pale, but seeing the blissful smile on it hurt the most. Martin wanted to die; the young man wasn't going to fight for his life. It had finally happened. "Marty, don't do this to me." He knelt on the floor and exchanged a look with Brooks, who looked equally shocked. "You need to fight, Marty, you hear me? Miranda wouldn't want you to give up without a fight!" He claimed Martin's hand, which was cold and clammy. Praying the young man would pull through, he twined their fingers, tightly holding on. "Don't do this!"

Murtaugh had no idea why the City Attorney was getting emotional as well, but he had no time to worry about it, as he directed the paramedics into the break room and took charge of the situation. He'd find out the details later!

"Let… me go," Martin managed in spite of his pain, not sure whom he was addressing, maybe even both of them. Although he was quickly losing consciousness, their horrified stares still registered and he felt sorry for doing this to them. But he wanted this. He wanted it to be over with and to be reunited with Miranda. Living without her hurt too much and he wanted out. "It's okay… I want…this."

"Stop that nonsense, Riggs!" Murtaugh snarled, as he joined them. He was getting fed up with hearing the same bullshit all over again. "You'll pull through and then I'll make you pay for doing this to me – again!"

Martin smiled, though he wasn't aware he was doing it. He'd miss Roger for sure and Ronnie… he did care about his father in law. And Avery, damn, the man had somehow found a way into his heart too. The pain suddenly worsened and breathing became increasingly impossible. His body finally shut down, unable to deal with the excruciating agony he was in and he finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Damn it," Ronnie cursed at finding Martin slipping away from them. He hated letting go of the younger man's hand, which he desperately held onto, but the paramedics needed to do their work. He gently lowered Martin's hand onto the floor and got out of the way. He felt numb watching the EMTs working on stabilizing Martin and he prayed that his son in law would pull through. He'd been honest earlier; his heart would break all over again if he lost Martin too.

Ronnie looked as lost as he felt, and seeing it made Brooks reach out. He pulled Ronnie into the corridor, creating more space for the paramedics to do their job and wrapped an arm around his friend. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I acted too late. I didn't see that coming." Posing as an officer the killer hadn't roused his suspicion. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"Not your fault," Ronnie managed, though his emotions made it hard for him to find the right words. "You didn't know that officer was our killer." Ronnie drew in a deep breath and managed to recompose himself. "I know what Marty's like – his self anointed protector complex got him in trouble many times before," he told Brooks, trying to comfort his friend. "But he always pulled through!" But this time Martin had nothing left to fight for; would he still pull through thinking there was nothing left for him? In his heart he knew the answer: Martin wanted to die.

Murtaugh wanted to ride with his partner in the ambulance, but the paramedics told him no, forcing him to stay behind for the moment. He hated being unable to stay at his partner's side, but they'd taken that choice away from him. Maybe he could support his captain though. To his surprise he found Avery comforting the City Attorney, who looked like death warmed over. Was the man really crying?

Brooks acted at once. "I need to look after Ronnie. Roger, you're in charge. Can you do this for me? I know you want to be at Riggs' side, but I need you here for now. You can join us later."

"I've got this," Murtaugh assured them, his head still reeling from the attack on Avery and Riggs taking the bullets instead.

Brooks forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. Ronnie needed him. Now that the paramedics had wheeled Martin out of the precinct, they should be going too.

/

Ronnie gratefully accepted the coffee Brooks handed him. "Thanks," he whispered, truly appreciating his friend supporting him. Knowing he might lose Martin was hard on him. All he could do was sit and wait while the surgical team operated on him.

Brooks sat down next to his friend and stared into his coffee. He didn't feel like sipping though. His emotions made it hard to breathe, let alone swallow the hot liquid, and he didn't want to end up choking up. "I'll stay if you want me to," he told his friend and rested a hand on Ronnie's shoulder.

Ronnie nodded; he desperately needed someone to talk to. He felt raw and his emotions needed out. "I lost Miranda a year ago, Brooks. It was a car crash, but… She was pregnant. She was going to be a mum and Marty already installed the nursery in their home. They were good for each other. When she died, I lost my grandson too. At first, I didn't realize how badly Martin was hurting. I knew he was grieving – so was I. But losing her hit him so much worse than me. The day she died, I lost Martin too. And I want him back, Brooks. I need him to fight! I can't lose him too." He wiped at the tears threatening to slide down his face.

Although they were friends, Brooks had never seen Ronnie this emotional before and he felt ill equipped to deal with it. He tried his best though. "Maybe he'll surprise us. Maybe he'll realize he still has something to live for." He recalled their conversation in the morgue earlier that day. Had he managed to get through to Martin? He hoped so! There was nothing they could do right now except wait and hope for the best.

"He cut off contact," Ronnie continued, not really registering Brooks' comforting words. He needed to get this off his chest – he needed to share his pain, hoping Brooks could help him carry it. "He blamed himself for her death. I tried talking some sense into him, but he's stubborn! He declined invitations to family dinners. I wanted him to stay at my place right after we lost Miranda, but he vanished after her funeral. At first, he was impossible to find. He didn't want to be found. Later, he showed up in El Paso and went back to work, but he was a shell of his former self."

Ronnie sat back, stared at the ceiling and eventually closed his eyes. "A week later, I found out that he'd overdosed on sleeping meds. He'd wanted to end it, but his neighbor found him and called it in. I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he realized he was still alive. He was dead inside, Brooks."

"And then you contacted me, requesting his transfer." Another previously blank spot had been filled in. Overdosing on sleeping meds hadn't been in Martin's file, else he would have read about it. What else was the Texan hiding?

"Yes. He couldn't stay in El Paso. Everything reminded him of her." Ronnie emptied his coffee and tried to regain his composure. He failed miserably. "Why aren't they telling us what's going on?" The wait was driving him mad.

"They're working on him," Brooks said, trying to comfort his friend. He'd been surprised when they had admitted him into the ICU as well, maybe staff hoped he'd be a calming influence on the patient's father in law as Ronne had been extremely upset. In the past, they had made him wait outside whenever he'd come to check on a critically injured detective. "Martin certainly has a way of getting into your heart, doesn't he?" he mused, managing a weak smile. He wasn't ready to give up yet and had to believe Martin pulled through.

Ronnie chuckled, but the expression in his eyes didn't change along with it. "You have no idea. The first time Miranda brought him home, I wasn't sure he was right for her. He has a lot of emotional baggage."

Brooks decided to come clean. "I read up on him and even checked his juvenile records. I know about this father." He didn't want to lose Martin, and he'd only known the Texan for a relatively short time, Ronnie however had an entire history with the young man, and this situation had to be so much harder on him.

Ronnie's smile quickly faded and turned soulful. "Yeah, Nathan Riggs is a nasty piece of work."

"He's still alive?" Brooks hadn't realized that.

"Alive and kicking, unfortunately. He's doing time for armed robbery at the moment. He's been in an out of prison a lot. If you read Martin's file you know what happened in that house. Nathan Riggs will haunt Marty till the day the bastard dies and even then, I'm not sure the nightmares will leave him alone. Marty's screams often woke us up when they stayed at my place." Ronnie shivered, recalling some of those pained screams. "Left him embarrassed as hell upon realizing he'd woke us up. He offered to stay at a hotel instead, but I wouldn't have it and told him there was nothing to be ashamed of. I'd done my own research at that point and felt deeply for him. The nightmares settled down after a few months, but he continued to have the occasional bad night. I doubt the nightmares ever fully went away."

"He slept with the lights on when he stayed at my place," Brooks revealed, probably sharing something Ronnie already knew about from personal experience.

Ronnie nodded. "Yes, he often does that." He grew thoughtful. "And yet, considering everything Martin has been through… He has a heart of gold. That boy is precious. My daughter had the best husband she could have wished for and I love my son in law. I really do."

Gestures often said more than words, so Brooks settled for gently squeezing his friend's shoulder. The door unexpectedly opened and a doctor approached. Brooks was about to get to his feet, when the physician signaled them to stay seated and sat down opposite them.

"I'm Stokes," he said, introducing himself. "I'm afraid there's no news yet. He's in surgery and still critical. I'm here because of the list you gave us," he said, frowning and addressing his patient's father in law. "It states we can't use certain medication. Is he allergic to them?"

Ronnie, glad to be able to help, said, "Not allergic exactly. He won't go into anaphylactic shock or anything like that, but these drugs mess with his senses. I don't know why. It's something they discovered while he was stationed overseas. He'd been shot and was taken to hospital where they gave him morphine. He actually woke up during surgery, tried to rip out the IV's and pulled out the endotracheal tube. He wrecked havoc in the operating theatre. Later, they found out it was a reaction to the morphine. You can't give him any opiates."

To Brooks, this was new information and only hearing that now worried him. They should know these things, but then again, Martin wouldn't tell them out of his own accord. "I never knew that. Do we actually have that information on file?"

"It should be in there," but Ronnie wasn't sure either.

"Thanks for clearing that up. I'll update you the moment we know more," Stokes said before leaving them alone again.

"Is that why he hates hospitals?" Brooks recalled practically dragging Riggs to the hospital after that arrow had buried itself in his shoulder. He'd wondered about the younger man's aversion back then. Come to think it, it had been more than simple aversion.

"As I said, he wrecked the place. He felt bad afterward. He didn't want to tell me about it at first. Miranda knew about it, but she was away visiting her grandmother. At the time Marty hunted an arsonist and got caught in a blast. They rushed him off to hospital and he terrorized the medical staff until they let him go. They didn't want to, but he was out of control. He was scared they'd medicate him and he'd destroy the place. Later on, I pressured him into telling me the truth. And as I'm still listed as his emergency contact, I take my responsibility very serious. Marty already suffered more pain than anyone ever should; I don't want to add to that."

Brooks nodded; he understood Ronnie only too well. His phone beeped, alerting him he'd received a message. Checking it, he found it was Roger inquiring about Martin's condition. He texted back and promised to let him know if something changed. A nurse dropped by, offering them more coffee and sandwiches. They accepted gratefully. Brooks suddenly realized his hands shook, watching them wrapped around his coffee cup.

"Yeah, Marty does that to you," Ronnie commented mirthlessly. "I love that boy, but he drives you insane."

"He dragged me down and used his body to shield me on both accounts," Brooks whispered, suddenly realizing just how upset – and angry! - he was. "And after that first time, I told him specifically to stop doing that!"

"It doesn't work that way," Ronnie said comfortingly. "Trust me, I've despaired many times over that boy."

"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when he wakes up! I'll put him on desk duty!" Brooks needed to vent. If he didn't, his anger might blow up in his face later. "I can take care of myself!"

"Miranda always said Marty had this blessed protector complex and she was right. He doesn't care if he gets hurt, as long as his loved ones are fine."

The tremors shaking his hands worsened. He should probably lay off the coffee, Brooks realized. The caffeine made things worse. Or maybe his emotions had gotten the better of him. It was easier to blame it on the caffeine though. "I'm getting some water. You want some too?"

"Nah, coffee works for me, but go ahead. Stretch your legs." He grew silent as he felt emotionally exhausted. The next couple of hours he'd spend in the ICU hoping against hope that Marty would pull through. He started praying, figuring it couldn't hurt.

"Thanks." Brooks got to his feet and stepped into the corridor. A sterile and very typical hospital scent immediately assaulted him and he leaned against the wall for support. "You'd better pull through, Riggs, because if you don't…" He'd end up scarred for life, knowing Martin had died for him.

TBC

Part 12

Listless and worn down by the long wait, Brooks looked at Stokes stepping into the waiting room. Hopefully it meant surgery was over.

"Any news on Marty?" Ronnie got to his feet, eager and impatient for more information.

"Martin Riggs just came out of surgery. His condition is still critical though. We're doing what we can but the damage is extensive. It's a miracle he survived surgery. At times, we didn't expect him to pull through, but he did. He's a fighter and that might save him, but at the moment things can go either way. I can't make promises. Please understand that we're doing everything we can to keep him alive. You can see him for five minutes, but prepare for the worst. I'm so sorry. I heard he saved your life, captain," he said, addressing the LAPD captain.

Brooks nodded. "Yes, he did." He'd hoped for something better, namely that Riggs was stable, but at least the other man was still fighting.

"At least he's still alive, thank God," Ronnie muttered, adding a quick prayer, thanking the Lord for watching over his son in law. "You need to have faith," he said, addressing Brooks in an effort to comfort his friend. "Don't give up on him yet. He might surprise us."

Having faith was hard on Brooks. He felt guilty as hell, as he was the reason why Martin was fighting for his life in the first place. Riggs had gotten injured while protecting him.

"I'll escort you to his room. He's been through extensive surgery and that's taxing on its own. It's like mister Delgado said, you need to have faith," Stokes told them.

Brooks appreciated the doctor's effort to reassure him, but it wasn't working. He just wanted Martin back on his feet, harassing him and being his usual pain in the ass.

/

"He really looks bad," Brooks whispered, careful not to distress the sleeping man. Martin was hooked up to a breathing machine and several other medical monitors. The heart monitor showed a steady rhythm, which he held onto. As long as Martin's heart beat, the young man had a chance to pull through. The physician had told them what was in the IV's, as Martin was hooked up to two feeds, but Brooks hadn't been able to listen, transfixed on the still man resting in the bed. Martin's shoulder, lower back, and abdomen were heavily bandaged, but thankfully the bandages were clean – no blood showed. Brooks felt small and powerless, standing at the hospital bed, knowing he couldn't help.

"The things you do to me, son," Ronnie muttered as he carefully gathered Martin's hand in his. He stayed clear of the IV and tenderly rubbed those cold fingers. "You need to stop doing this, Marty."

Brooks agreed. Ever since Martin Riggs had entered his life, he'd lived in constant worry for the Texan. He'd never had parental feelings before, but Martin had woken them. Which was absurd, as Ronnie made a great father substitute. Martin didn't need him.

"I need to call my wife and update the rest of the family," Ronnie announced, feeling a bit reassured now that his son in law had made it through surgery. "I'll also inform Murtaugh of what's going on. Will you stay with him? Call me if his condition deteriorates, will you? I'll be back as soon as I can. I don't want to tell Anna about Marty over the phone. She needs to hear this in person."

"I'll stay," Brooks promised. Ronnie's faith in him made him feel humble. "Go, take care of your family. I've got this." He'd watch over Martin till Ronnie returned. It was the least he could do.

Ronnie let go of Martin's hand and nodded at his friend before leaving, feeling grateful.

Brooks knew his five minutes were almost up, but he still had something left to do. He gingerly placed the palm of his hand on Martin's brow, unaccustomed to touching the younger man in such a private setting, but he hoped the contact helped. "You need to fight your way back to us, Martin. Don't you dare give up! Fight damn it, you hear me? Fight!" Martin remained unresponsive and Brooks sighed deeply. Hopefully Martin Riggs felt like he still had something to life for. If he did, he might fight and pull through.

/

_"Martin, why are you here?"_

_He couldn't believe how lucky he was. "Miranda!" She stood opposite him and gave him a worried look. Sometimes, when he got lucky he dreamt about her and he cherished those dreams. They kept him going when the nightmares returned. He hung onto those sweet dreams during his darkest hours, hiding in his trailer, drowning in solitude and seeking solace in alcohol. "Miranda, I finally made it! I'm here. We're together again!" But she kept her distance. Why? Not so long ago she'd told him to join her. _

_"This is wrong," she whispered as she shuffled toward him. "You're not supposed to be here. Not for a very long time."_

_Heaven was a sweet place with her in it and he planned on staying for eternity. He was never letting her go again. "Miranda, it's been so long. You don't know how much I wanted to see you again. To…" To hold her in his arms, to kiss and worship her. To keep her safe and never let go again. "I won't fail you again. I'm so sorry!" She took a step back the moment he approached. "Honey?" Why was she backing away from him?_

_She shook her head, her expression worried and her eyes widening. "Marty, you can't be here. You have to go back. It's too early!"_

_What was going on? "Miranda, the time's perfect. This is what I want. I want to be with you!" It was all he'd ever wanted and now she was rejecting him? The worry in her eyes made him cringe. "I love you! I'll never hurt you again! I'm so sorry I couldn't keep you safe!" Did she blame him for her death? The thought alone hurt more than words could express. "I didn't do it on purpose!" _ _But she was right, wasn't she? He was the reason she and their unborn child were dead. He'd failed to protect them. What the hell had he been thinking? Why would she still want him? His heart shattered into a million pieces, which would never fit together again. Her rejection left him broken. He hung his head in shame and started turning away from her, but then her hand cupped his cheek and he looked at her… looked at love itself._

_"Martin, you misunderstand. I want you here. Of course I do, I love you, but it's not your time! You have so much left to do! It's too early for you to be here!"_

_He pressed his cheek against her hand, savoring the touch. Her warm fingers lovingly stroked his face. In bliss, he closed his eyes, focusing on that sensation - the sensation of being touched again. He'd missed that. He'd missed her. _

_"Martin, look at me."_

_Her request, spoken softly and with so much love, made him open his eyes and he swallowed hard, finding her so close. "I love you so much."_

_"I know you do, love," she whispered and chuckled warmly. "And I love you too, Martin. I always will, but…" She frowned sorrowfully. "But you have to go back now."_

_"I can't," he objected. "I don't want to. There's nothing left for me there. I want to be with you."_

_She sighed deeply and moved closer still. She wrapped her arms around him and guided his head against her shoulder. Wrapping him up tightly she held him close._

_And it was the sweetest thing he'd ever experienced. He didn't want it to end. He wanted it to last forever. "I want to spend eternity like this." He returned her embrace, holding her close and breathing in her familiar scent. This was home. She was home. And she'd forgiven him for failing her. She held him close and rocked him, softly singing a lullaby they'd also sung to their unborn child. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I should have kept you safe. I should have been at your side that day!" He would have kept her safe, would have absorbed the impact himself. "I would die for you."_

_"I know that, love, but I don't want you dead. Martin, look at me."_

_He raised his head and hesitantly met her eyes. He still felt guilty as hell._

_"Listen to me, Martin. What happened wasn't your fault. Don't do this to yourself. You aren't to blame." _

_She placed a finger against his lips the moment he wanted to object, so he remained silent instead. If only he'd been able to keep her safe!_

_"What's done is done," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "Martin, I need you to do something for me."_

_"Anything," he promised, feeling breathless now that she was so close, holding him, touching him. She had forgiven him!_

_"I need you to live, Martin."_

_Her words didn't make sense and he resolutely shook his head. "No, that's wrong."_

_"It's not. Martin, I need you to go back. I need you to live your life. You have so much left to do! Do you have any idea how badly the world needs you?" He didn't; his expression told her and it hurt – hurt so badly. _

_"The world doesn't need screw ups like me. Let me stay with you." She couldn't ask him to go back. He didn't want to. What did he have left to live for? _

_"There are several reasons," she started patiently, knowing convincing him would take a lot. "If you go back you'll save lives. Don't let them down. There are men, women and children who depend on you to be out there, doing your job. If you don't, they'll die. That's your destiny, love. You protect, it's what you do, and I need you to continue doing it."_

_"Miranda, don't!" He shook his head. "Don't say things like that." He wanted to be with her. He didn't want to think about anyone needing him, or even worse, their lives depending on him! He'd screw up again!_

_She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder like she'd done a hundred times before. He still refused to believe her and it hurt. "Martin Riggs," she said, trying again. "I need you to be out there doing the thing you do best; to protect and save lives while doing so."_

_"There's nothing left for me to go back to, let me stay." But her words woke something deep inside him. She knew him so well; he did want to protect the weak and help the innocent. _

_"And let's not forget about the people who care about you. They'll greatly miss you if you don't go back. They need you in their lives. Martin, you have so much left to give."_

_"Miranda, what are you talking about?" She raised her head, grinned at him, and her eyes sparkled with mischief like they'd done so often. He'd worn that ugly Christmas sweater to make her happy, and he hadn't cared when finding out she had set him up. Sometimes she'd been a little devil in disguise and he loved that about her too. Hell, he loved everything about her. _

_"My father loves you. Your rejection hurts him. Martin, when he accepted you into the family, he adopted you. Don't take that away from him. He needs you in his life."_

_He cringed. "Ronnie needs to let me go."_

_"No, he needs to hold even stronger, Martin, he needs to hold on until you understand that you're wanted. That you deserve being loved."_

_He loosened his embrace and she mirrored his action, letting go as well. Bowing his head, he stared at the floor, absentmindedly noticing the white tiles were oddly out of place. Where were they? _

_"And your friend, Roger Murtaugh? How will he feel when you're gone? His wife, Trish, cares about you too. You can't deny that."_

_"Miranda, don't…" Why did he suddenly hurt so badly? Agony spread throughout his body, making it hard for him to focus._

_"How about Maureen Cahill? Bailey? Cruz? You have more family than you know." _

_"That's all work-related. We depend on each other in dangerous situations. You're reading too much into it." He sucked in his breath, reached out and placed a hand against a cold, white wall in order to support himself. _

_"How about your captain? How about Brooks Avery? Don't tell me you don't care about him. You were willing to die for him. Not out of duty. Not because he's your captain, but because you care. He wants to be your friend. Let him, Martin, please let him."_

_Tremors shook his body, pain made it hard for him to stay on his feet and he slid down the wall, ending up on the cold floor. "What's happening?"_

_"You're waking up, love."_

_Her voice came from a distance and sounded distorted. He'd always recognize it though. "Don't leave me!"_

_"I never will, Martin, and I'll wait for you. But you need to live first. Promise me to live, Martin!"_

_He struggled for breath. Something blocked his air pipe and he panicked. But he couldn't move; paralysis had set in, stopping him from saving himself. What kind of hell was this?_

_/_

"Riggs! Martin, you need to calm down. Calm down for me. You're safe!" Brooks pressed the emergency button to alert the medical staff and tried to keep Martin in place. The injured man was panicking, trying to rip out the IV's and reaching for the endotracheal tube that was helping him breathe. At the moment, it freaked him out though. "Martin, listen to me! You're in the ICU. You need to calm down. Calm down!" Brooks fought down his own rising panic and focused on Martin instead, whose big, terrified eyes told of the horror he experienced that very moment.

Several things happened all at once. Martin heard a voice, but failed to identify it, as he had a hard time focusing in general. He couldn't breathe, damn it! Then, fingers curled around his wrists, holding him down, worsening his panic attack. He was about to spectacularly lose it and fight for real, when he recognized that voice. Trying to concentrate, he looked at the man holding him down. It was Avery! What was he saying?

"Martin, you're safe with me. You're hooked up to a ventilator machine, you need to calm down. Can you do that for me?" Was he actually getting through to the wounded Texan? He prayed to God he was. "Martin, please, I'll keep you safe, but you have to listen to me and do what I say!" The frenzied expression in those brown eyes slowly, but noticeably, changed and Martin finally calmed down. He stopped attempting to pull out the endotracheal tube, much to his relief. "That's better, thanks, Martin." Wow, at times like these he really missed having Todd at this side. His partner was much better at handling such situations. Luckily for him, the medical staff rushed into the room and Brooks wanted to step away from the bed and give them the space they needed, but Martin suddenly grabbed his hand and held on, squeezing like hell. Brooks got the hint and moved a little closer now that the medics weren't telling him to leave. "You're going to be fine. Just let them do their job. You're badly injured. Let them take care of you, Martin."

"Keep doing whatever it is your doing," Stokes said. "It's working. He's calming down and I'd rather not give him a sedative, since our options are limited here."

Brooks nodded; he'd do his best. Making sure he was in Martin's direct line of sight, he smiled reassuringly. "You managed to get shot twice. You took one in the shoulder and the other in your abdomen. You had surgery and you're still in the ICU. It was touch and go for a while, but it looks like you decided to come back. Thanks for that, by the way." He kept talking, mostly to give Martin something to focus on. "You scared the hell out of me. Don't ever do that again!" The crushing hold on his hand lessened, but Martin wasn't letting go yet.

The information Avery gave him helped. Martin was able to piece together what was going on and tried to calm down so the doctor and nurses could work on him. Only a moment ago, he'd been talking to Miranda and holding her and now he was in the ICU, waking up after surgery. The panic attack would have been much worse if it hadn't been for Avery's calming influence. He'd been on a ventilator before, and although he hated it, he worked with it.

"Great job, Martin. You're doing fine." Brooks looked at the doctor for instructions. "What do I do?"

"Keep him calm," Stokes instructed while conferring with the rest of his team.

Brooks decided against bringing up Ronnie having been in the ICU just yet. He didn't want Martin to get worked up again. "Mayer's dead. I shot him, twice for good measure. He's no longer a threat." Hearing that seemed to reassure Martin, who closed his eyes. "We dealt with that treat, all right?" Martin closed his eyes again and Brooks realized they had a way to communicate, regardless of its limitations. "Are you in pain?"

Martin considered lying, but knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. He might be able to hide the pain for a little while, but Brooks would realize the truth eventually. So he blinked again. The pain was bad; he couldn't recall ever being in such agony before and he'd been hospitalized quite a few times, overseas mostly.

"He's in pain," Brooks told the doctor, who had watched the exchange without getting involved.

"I would be surprised if he wasn't," the physician replied while injecting a transparent liquid into one of the IV bags. "Mister Riggs, do you want us to remove the tube? You're breathing on your own and you no longer need it." The last thing he wanted was for his patient to worsen his injuries.

Martin closed his eyes again, since it was the only manner of communication he had left. He did his utmost to relax and fought down his gagging reflex while they removed the tube. Relief coursed through him once it was gone. Damn, it was good to have it removed. His throat was raw and painful, but that was only some minor discomfort and something he could deal with. "Cap…" he started, but simply lacked the energy to continue. Fuck, he was tired and his eyes closed.

"Don't speak," Brooks advised and watched Martin slip under again. "Rest instead." The younger man lost the fight to stay awake and his eyes closed, going back to sleep. But even in sleep, Martin kept holding onto his hand.

"Luckily you were here to talk him down." Things would have turned ugly if their patient had succeeded in ripping out the tube and IV's. "Normally we don't let anyone stay, but we're making an exception for you. He has a history of violent behavior due to his reaction to medication and suffering from nightmares. You can sit with him."

Brooks wanted to point out that they should ask Ronnie instead, since his friend was Martin's father in law, but Ronnie wasn't here right now. "I'll stay," he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. He hadn't realized it until now but his knees were about to give out on him. Fatigue crawled up on him. "Can I use my phone in here?" He wanted to update Ronnie and maybe talk to Todd.

"Yes, that's not a problem." The medical team checked on their patient one more time, and once they were satisfied that everything was in order, left.

Limited to the use of only one hand Brooks eventually managed to text Ronnie, telling him about Martin unexpectedly waking up, but left out the panic attack, as he didn't want to worry his friend. Martin had woken up; they had to focus on the positive. Next, he dialed Todd's number.

TBC

Part 13

Talking things over with Todd always helped put matters in perspective and now Brooks felt ready to deal with whatever crap Martin might sprout once the patient was fully awake again. Todd had given him some valuable advice and had even suggested offering Martin the guestroom, should the injured man need a place to stay during recovery. It helped that Todd was a surgeon himself, meaning he had ample experience dealing with grumpy patients. Brooks should know; he'd been one of them, giving Todd, who had supervised his surgery after getting shot, a hard time. Till this day he wondered how they'd ended up together after getting off to such a bad start. His partner was the best thing that had ever happened to him and Brooks knew it. So he cherished his relationship and did his utmost to make it work. Which wasn't easy, considering their jobs, hellish work hours, and the stress that came along with working on the police force and in the medical field.

"I got your text," Ronnie said upon entering Martin's room. His first look was for his son in law. A heavy burden slipped from his shoulders upon seeing Martin breathe independently. "Thanks for what you did." He pulled up a chair next to the bed and smiled gratefully at his friend. Stokes had told him what had happened earlier. "You talked him out of a panic attack. No easy feat, and I know that from personal experience." It had happened before and he'd failed back then.

"I was in the right place at the right time." Brooks didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "How's Anna and the rest of the family doing?"

"Worried," Ronnie replied, thinking back to his wife bursting out in tears when he'd told her about Martin's condition. She'd settled down once Brooks' reassuring text had arrived, telling them their son in law was stable now. "We liked Martin from the start. He was good for Miranda and he quickly became part of the family, whether he wanted to or not. Being part of a family was something he'd never experienced before, but he fit in perfectly," Ronnie added, recalling Brooks had read Martin's personal file. "By the way, the waiting room is filling up. Murtaugh and his wife arrived first. Now Bailey, Cruz and Cahill joined them. They're waiting for access restrictions to be loosened."

"That doesn't surprise me." Knowing his team cared made Brooks happy and proud. He'd talk to them later and reassure them, even try convincing them to head home for the moment, though he suspected Roger would refuse doing so. Murtaugh wanted to stay close.

"There's also this little guy, Leo Getz, trying to get inside, but…" Ronnie didn't know the man.

"They worked a case once. I think Leo took a liking to Roger and Martin." Brooks would let the security guards know they could let him into the waiting area. "How about those restrictions?" He had no business being here himself, as he wasn't family. He still wondered why the medical staff hadn't asked him to leave yet.

"Not being loosened. They still want Marty to rest." Ronnie briefly rested his hand on Martin's brow and then stroked the wayward hair away from the face. It didn't feel like Martin was running a fever, but he couldn't be sure.

"Marty," Brooks muttered beneath his breath, amusement slipping through. "He lets you get away with that?" He chuckled, wondering about his detective's reaction should he ever address him in that way.

"Miranda started it and I liked it. So I continue using it and he never told me to stop." Ronnie settled down more comfortably. His trip home had refreshed him. Anna's support helped, and having an extensive family meant a lot of caring relatives who took care of each other. Back then, he'd been thrilled to make Martin a part of his family. Martin had been reluctant at first but had let him eventually.

"Gentlemen," Stokes said upon entering the room, having found a new sense of respect for Avery, recalling the way the LAPD captain had reassured his patient earlier.

"Doctor," Ronnie reacted at once and made eye contact. "How's Marty doing?"

"Better than expected to be honest. Ever since waking up, he's been stabile. Don't get me wrong, his road to recovery will be a long one, but he'll get there. That's something I didn't think possible during surgery. He lost a lot of blood and we repaired the damage done to several organs, which was extensive. He'll be confined to bed for several weeks; his body needs time to heal. After that, baby steps, but he should make a full recovery." This was why he loved his job; watching a miracle like that happen from up close. He was rooting for Martin Riggs, a cop who had gone done saving someone's life. He greatly respected that.

"That's good to hear, really good," Ronnie mumbled, nodding repeatedly. His family would rejoice over the good news. "Anything else?"

"He'll sleep a lot, so go home and get some rest as well. I heard a lot of folk want to visit with him, but I can't allow that yet. My patient needs rest for the time being, as he's still weak and recovering from surgery." Maybe they could set up some visiting schedule later. Normally Delgado and Avery wouldn't be allowed to stay that long either, but their presence seemed to soothe his patient, so Stokes was willing to make an exception. The last thing he wanted was for Martin Riggs to suffer another anxiety attack.

"Brooks, you should get some rest. You've been on your feet for much too long. I'll stay with Marty," Ronnie offered, realizing his friend looked exhausted. He could never repay him for being there for Martin when his son in law had needed the support the most.

Brooks thought it over; Ronnie was right. He should check on what was happening at the precinct, find out if they were done processing the evidence at his house and make sure it was habitable before Todd returned. Also, he should update his team before they ran out of patience and threatened to storm the ICU. "Fine, but let me know the moment he deteriorates, will you?" Ronnie took his hand in-between his, a gesture which made him frown.

"You're a good friend. Martin's fortunate to have you. Thank you, Brooks."

Feeling uneasy, Brooks dismissed the sentiment. "That's what friends are for. I didn't do anything special." He shyly returned Ronnie's smile and when the other man released his hand he turned around to seek out his detectives.

/

"Captain!" Cruz was the first to notice Avery's arrival. At his outcry, the rest turned around as well.

Brooks smiled reassuringly, seeing the worried looks on their faces. Roger seemed ready to storm the ICU in order to find out how his partner was doing and Trish did her best to calm him down. Cahill, who normally acted so professionally, fidgeted with her teacup. Bailey remained in the back, but gave him an impatient look. He'd built this team from scratch, starting the day he'd become captain, gathering and recruiting the best – at least in his book. Leo Getz hadn't made it into the waiting area yet — thankfully.

"Captain, you're killing us here," Bailey muttered in frustration. "What's happening?"

"And why did they allow you and the City Attorney into the ICU? Isn't that family only?" Trish worried and wanted to help. Maybe they'd let them visit too if Brooks and Delgado had been allowed to visit Martin?

"First things first," Brooks said, upon realizing his team didn't yet know about Ronnie Delgado being Martin's father in law. Raising his hands and trying to reassure them, he waited for them to settle down, before explaining, "Riggs is stable. He's breathing on his own and he woke up two hours ago." Again, he left out the panic attack; they didn't need to know about that. "They administered a sedative and expect him to sleep for the next few hours. It'll take time, but Riggs will make a full recovery. Is that enough information for the moment?" he added, hoping he'd reassured them.

"The best," Trish replied, while still trying to keep her husband in place. "Access is still restricted though? At least, that's what they told us."

"I'm afraid so," Brooks admitted. "Riggs needs his rest. You'll all get a chance to see him later, but not quite yet." Bailey nodded, seemingly satisfied with Riggs' current condition. Roger might need some talking down though and he counted on Trish, and maybe Maureen, to support his former partner. Cruz grinned like mad, looking pleased his hero had pulled through again.

"You didn't answer Trish's question," Bailey pointed out. "How come you're allowed in ICU? You might be a LAPD captain and Delgado City Attorney, but that doesn't get you admitted."

Maybe he shouldn't tell them, but hopefully the truth getting out would help Riggs in the end. Secrecy never worked well in the end. It was best to be up front about matters. "Ronnie Delgado is Riggs' father in law," Brooks told them, realizing he was dropping a bombshell. Their reactions varied. Trish looked stunned at first, but then amused. Roger's eyes widened dramatically and he appeared having a hard time wrapping his mind around the news. Cahill wasn't surprised at all, which told him the psychologist had checked up on her patient's past and relatives. Bailey whistled, impressed, and Cruz seemed at a loss. Had the situation not been so dire, their reactions would have been amusing.

"Let me get this straight," Roger said, addressing his former partner as he needed confirmation. "How can that be? He's related to the City Attorney and he never told me?" Oh, Riggs was going to pay for keeping him in the dark about that! Who would have thought that someone like Riggs had family in the local government? However, it did explain Riggs vanishing each time Delgado had been at the precinct.

"I didn't know about that either. I only discovered it recently," Brooks said in an effort to appease Roger, who was clearly upset. "I should have found out why Ronnie took such a personal interest in a Texan cop, but I didn't," Brooks explained, wondering if Roger was going to rip his partner a new one once Martin woke up. "Go easy on him!" he warned his detective. "Remember, there's a reason he didn't tell us and it wasn't in order to spite us. He lost his wife, Roger, and Ronnie Delgado his daughter. Sometimes, sharing pain isn't easy. And you know Riggs doesn't handle emotions well."

Cahill nodded; she knew that only too well. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Go home, or back to work. You'll get a chance to visit Riggs once he's up to it," Brooks repeated while giving them a reassuring look. "He's in the best hands and Ronnie and I will stay. We'll keep an eye on him. He won't be alone."

"I'm not leaving," Murtaugh announced. "I need to see him first."

"Roger," Brooks said as he approached his former partner. "That's not happening any time soon. Don't exhaust yourself. Riggs needs you rested and alert. Go home and get some sleep. Come back when you're allowed to visit. Don't be stubborn about this!"

"I'll take him home," Trish reassured her friend. "Just let us know when we can see him."

"Of course, now get going, all of you!" Thankfully, they heeded his words, all expect for Bailey, who rapidly approached. "What's going on?" Why wasn't she leaving with the rest?

"I thought you should know that we arrested the perps sending you those notes and body parts. Scorsese called in some favors and got lucky. We happened upon footage of two cops carrying wrapped up body parts from morgues all around town. They're in custody and being interrogated."

So they were dealing with two cases instead of one, exactly like Martin had suggested. Brooks had already suspected it was an inside job, but to hear Bailey confirm it, saddened him. "Two of our own?"

"They worked traffic. We also found several citizen complaints of them targeting the gay community. IA was already investigating them."

"So we solved one case. We still have to find out what triggered the assassination attempts though," Brooks realized, but he had faith in his team.

"We're still working on that and found some promising leads. We'll solve that case too," Bailey hinted, and her normally stern complexion briefly faltered. "Riggs, is he really going to be okay?"

"Yes, it's the truth. The road to recovery won't be easy, but we have his back, don't we?"

"Yes, sir!" she said at once. "He can count on us!" She smiled and then took her leave.

Brooks smiled. She'd make one hell of a captain one day. He'd continue to carefully groom her and hopefully she would succeed him in the future. It was time to head home – find out if he currently still had one! Then, sort out the mess back at the precinct and eventually he would return here. He had a long day ahead of him.

/

Brooks headed home first. Forensics had finished up and cleared the house. The damage was minimal. The skylight had already been fixed and secured thanks to his team. The corridor which sported an impressive bullet hole still needed to be fixed, but that was easily done. Maybe he'd even keep it like that, if Todd was okay with that. It would remind him of what Martin had done for him during these last few days.

After taking a shower, he changed his outfit and headed to the precinct. To his surprise, everyone he ran into seemed glad he was back. Even cops and detectives from other departments greeted him or welcomed him back. Even those, who'd ignored or harassed him in the past. Which was odd, considering he wasn't that popular, mostly due to lingering anti gay sentiments within the police force. Yet, things seemed changed. Why? "Roger, what's going on?" He cornered his former partner and inclined his head toward the rest of the team. "Why's everyone glad to see me? I ran into Davids earlier and he actually said hello! You know he hates me!"

The question didn't surprise Murtaugh. "You shot the Special Ops guy who gunned down Riggs. They respect that. On top of that, guys like Davids might not like you, but when push comes to shove, they'll support you." Brooks' life hadn't been easy, Roger knew that. "They respect you. It's as simple as that."

"Not quite that simple, but I'm not complaining." To his relief his department was running smoothly, thanks to everyone pitching in and doing a little extra work.

"Any news on Riggs?" Roger wanted to see his partner, but visitation still being restricted worked against him.

"Nothing yet. I'm heading there now. Can I count on you to keep the place running?"

"Sure thing, cap. I've got this! Just let me know how Riggs's doing!" "I will."

/

It was nine PM and Brooks wondered if they'd even admit him into ICU now that he wasn't escorting Ronnie. Brooks checked with the receptionist, and to his surprise, they buzzed him in. Running into Stokes in the corridor, Brooks didn't waste any time. "How's Riggs doing?"

"I'm actually on my way to check on him. Why don't you join me?"

Brooks followed Stokes inside and smiled at finding Martin awake and glaring at the heart monitor. But then he grew worried. Where was Ronnie? Why was Martin alone? He walked over to the bed and smiled warmly, relieved to find him doing much better.

"Hey, cap," Martin whispered fatigued, failing miserably at faking his normal enthusiasm. He slightly turned his head in order to make eye contact and felt shy at seeing Avery's worried expression. He was still so very tired. It didn't help that he was also in pain, though trying hard not to let it show. Martin vaguely remembered Avery visiting him earlier and he thought he'd heard the older man pleading with him to fight and wake up. Or had that been part of that weird dream? Lately, his dreams had been so very vivid and he still recalled every word Miranda had said. She'd wanted him to go back – to live, while all he'd wanted was to stay with her. Death had spit him back out again, damn it!

"Martin," Brooks said and pulled up a chair. After sitting down, he closely studied the injured man. Martin was barely awake and struggled to keep his eyes open, seemingly desperate to stay awake. He should be resting instead. "Why don't you go back to sleep? You look tired. Rest will do you good. There's no reason to be awake."

"Don't wanna sleep," he protested and failed to stop himself from whimpering due to the pain as he minutely shifted on the bed. He cursed himself for letting his discomfort show, because now Avery looked at him in that special way – way too concerned. "I'm fine," he forced out from between clenched teeth.

"No, you're not. You're in pain," Brooks stated firmly and that wouldn't do. Addressing Stokes, he asked, "Is there anything you can do for him?" His heart went out to Martin and he wanted to take away his suffering. But Stokes was already on it, once more injecting a painkiller into the IV-port.

"This will take off the edge, I promise," soothed the doctor. "Your captain is right, you know. There's no reason for you to stay awake. If you want to sleep, sleep," he advised. "It'll help you heal." He watched his patient closely, trying to determine if the medication worked.

"Murtaugh is going insane because he's locked out of ICU," Brooks started, hoping to reassure and distract Martin. "Trish almost threatened doctor Stokes here with bodily harm if they weren't allowed to see you within the next few days, and Cahill, I think she needs therapy herself when she's through with you. You do have a way with people, Martin. They're worried about you, even Bailey, though her poker face won't show it." Brooks noticed the way Martin's hand twitched, as if reaching for something, needing someone to hold onto. Before he knew what he was doing, he gently wrapped his fingers around Martin's hand, reassuringly stroking the fingers. To his surprise, Martin settled down; the twitching stopped and he even closed his eyes.

Martin barely registered the touch, but his subconscious noticed the contact and reacted accordingly, telling him he wasn't alone. Someone had his back. The medicine removed the pain's sharp edges and allowed him to breathe more easily. Agony turned into mere discomfort, something he could deal with. Damn that drowsiness though. He didn't want to go back to sleep. He'd been sleeping way too much! His body felt heavy, his mind relaxed, and it made him talkative, which was a bad thing, but he couldn't help it. The medication messed with him! "So… how did you get in… cap?"

Brooks grinned, welcoming his detective's sudden curiosity. "Ronnie being your father in law meant he got into the ICU and he dragged me along for support." Martin's gaze slowly lost its focus, telling him the medication worked. "For some reason they allow me to stay." He smiled, a bit saddened. "They think my presence here helps."

"That's… good." He liked having Avery close. His eyes closed repeatedly, but he forced them open again. Whatever drugs they'd given him made him sleepy, and now that the discomfort was going away, he felt incredibly relaxed and lazy. The fact that he could barely move should worry him, but it didn't. It was nice to be free of the pain for a change. Closing his eyes and going back to sleep sounded tempting, but he wasn't sure he should. Shouldn't he head back to work instead? Bad guys were getting away and it was his job to catch them.

Martin started moving about, struggling to sit up and the actions alarmed Brooks. He exchanged a quick look with Stokes, who appeared equally concerned. "Martin, what are you doing? Stop it," Brooks said firmly, trying to get the injured man to calm down again.

"He shouldn't be able to do that," Stokes whispered, stunned. The amount of painkiller and sedative he'd administered should have put his patient to sleep within seconds. But not Martin Riggs, who continued to fight them.

"Martin, don't move about that much. You don't want to pull any stitches. They'll make you go through surgery again, if you do." Brooks used his hold on Martin's hand to make sure the injured man couldn't mess with the IV's. "Just calm down and go back to sleep. Close those eyes. I know you want to," he said in what was hopefully a calming tone. What was happening with Martin? Why was he trying to get out of bed again?

"Time to go back to work, cap," Martin whispered, trying to fight this obnoxious fatigue. His body, heavy and relaxed, still refused to cooperate though, frustrating him further. His failure to sit up also irritated him.

Brooks tenderly squeezed Martin's hand. "Martin, listen to me. You're hurt and on sick leave for the time being. Leave catching the bad guys up to Roger, Bailey and Cruz for now." Now that he knew what was going on, he could reason with the anxious man. "Don't contradict me. You need to rest, Martin, and that's an order." He sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to cause Martin any discomfort. "You're in bed and should be asleep. Can you do that for me? Close your eyes and go back to sleep?"

"Yes, sir," Martin whispered, figuring he could carry out that order, as it seemed easy. He didn't want to dream again, but Avery's presence helped and maybe his boss would keep the nightmares away. Martin lost his struggle to stay awake and his eyes closed. Before slipping back into sleep, he wrapped his fingers around Avery's in turn, making sure the man couldn't leave. For some reason, which presently eluded him, he wanted Brooks close.

"You're doing good, Martin. Just give in and let go." Now that their patient was asleep, Brooks sighed in relief. They'd mastered another crises, but he knew there were more to come.

"That could have ended badly," Stokes commented. "He's in no shape to leave the bed." Even sitting up would have caused complications. It was a good thing that the LAPD captain had such a calming effect on their patient.

Brooks nodded, very much aware of Martin's condition. He had to find a way to make sure the injured man stayed in bed. But how the hell was he going to convince Martin to rest? He couldn't tie him down or handcuff him to the bed, although, he had to admit, the thought was incredibly tempting. He might use it as a last resort, if everything else failed! "We'll figure it out," Brooks said eventually, having faith in Martin Riggs. "We'll do this one step at a time!"

TBC

Part 14

Through a haze voices whispering softly woke him from his sleep. Martin felt disorientated, but he was too tired to worry about it. The voices finally fully registered with him. Normally he didn't like people getting close to him without him knowing about it. Normally he'd be on high alert, but not this time, he realized distractedly. What was happening? Why did he feel like this?

"Hey, Riggs, you awake, buddy?"

Hearing Roger's voice soothed him and any panic that might have risen went away, knowing his partner was close; a partner he trusted. Roger would keep him safe, wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

"Riggs, can you hear me? Let me know if you can."

Opening his eyes shouldn't be this hard, but Martin struggled anyway, and managed - somehow. Now he faced his next challenge, turning his head into the direction the voice came from.

"Don't exert yourself, Martin. We'll come back later when you're rested, but we needed to make sure you're getting better. We worry, you know."

That was Trish. Martin slowly turned his head, ignoring the growing pain coming from his shoulder. Fatigued, he blinked, trying to focus on the Murtaughs sitting at his bed and giving him concerned looks. Damn, he didn't want to worry them! Martin tried to smile, but had no idea if he succeeded. He felt strangely afloat, like resting on some clouds, drifting in the sky, which was definitely strange. He told himself to focus and whispered, "Hey, Rog… Trish…" At least, he'd managed that. That was his voice, wasn't it? He sounded off though, as if he hadn't used it for a while. His throat hurt, the light stung his eyes, and his body felt numb. Not good.

"You need to rest, partner." Cautiously and doing his utmost not to worsen Riggs' discomfort, Roger reached out. At first he wasn't sure where to touch, as his partner seemed to be in a lot of pain. Eventually he patted the injured man's upper arm. In what was hopefully soothing, he rubbed the skin through the fabric of the medical gown, ignoring the strange way in which Riggs stared at him. Whatever they'd given his partner worked, taking away the pain, which was good. Usually Roger wasn't that tactile with Riggs, but this was a special situation. And touch helped, Roger knew that, so he kept up the soothing motion. He smiled at catching Trish doing the same, stroking Riggs' hair. "I never thought I'd ever say this," Roger started, "but I miss you getting me into trouble." It was the truth; he missed having Riggs about.

Martin instantly regretted chuckling as it sent a painful sensation down his shoulder and into his abdomen, causing minor tremors to shake his body. He ignored the discomfort and focused on Roger and Trish instead. "Don't give me… bad ideas… Rog." Why did he still feel so fucking weak? Shouldn't he be getting better? Why wasn't he back on his feet yet?

"It's good to hear your voice, Martin." Trish gave him one of her patented maternal smiles. "Learning you were shot worried me. Don't you ever do that again! I don't like seeing you in pain."

His eyes threatened to close again, but he successfully fought it. "Didn't… do it… on purpose," he admitted; and it was the truth. As far as he was concerned he'd just happened to stand in the killer's path when the sniper fired. No need to make him into a hero, which he wasn't. His throat felt raw and talking hurt. Scraping it only worsened the ache.

"That sounds painful. Have some water, Martin," Trish reached for the glass. "Careful now, let me help." She placed it against Martin's lips, measuring his sips so he'd drink slowly. "Better?"

The water helped. He wanted to nod, but the pain spreading through his shoulder warned him against it. "Better." Trish had said something a moment ago, what was it? Why was he so hazy? Why was it so hard to remember? Oh, wait, now he remembered; a bit late, but at least he knew what was going on. "Mayer… wanted to shoot the captain … Couldn't… let that happen." Yes, now he recalled the shooting going down in the break room.

"Of course not, but next time, find a way that ensures you're safe too." Trish's heart went out to Martin. When the call came that they could visit, she'd dropped everything. She'd picked up Roger at the precinct and they had headed for the hospital right away. Finding Martin soundly asleep had been somewhat of an anticlimax. She didn't know him like this; still and asleep. Normally he was so full of life! It had momentarily thrown her, causing her maternal instincts to kick in big time. They had pulled up chairs and sat down, watching him, maybe even guarding him. She'd been shocked to find how bad he looked. Doctor Stokes had reassured them that their patient would recover given time and they hung onto that. At this point, full recovery was hard to imagine, but she clung to the fact that he was a fighter.

"You're a hero now," Roger teased and grinned at his partner, who gave him a stunned look. "Hey, you saved Avery!"

"I'm no… hero," Martin fiercely objected. The mere thought was ridiculous!

"Yes, you are, Martin." Trish reached for her husband's hand, needing his support as she was struggling as well. How was it possible that Martin didn't see his own worth? She continued to stroke his hair, hoping the motion offered him some comfort. She frowned in concern at the way his eyes closed, startled open, and then closed again, telling her that he struggled to stay awake. She should let him rest instead. "Martin, go back to sleep. We'll talk later."

"Yes, madam," he conceded readily. Now that he had her permission to close his eyes, he dozed off again.

Stokes, who was watching from the doorway, gestured for them to join him in the corridor.

"Let's go, he needs his beauty sleep," Roger said jokingly, as he guided his wife into the corridor. His partner's appearance had shocked him as well. He'd never seen Riggs this exhausted before. The guy always bounced back!

Trish managed a weak smile. "Doctor, how's he doing? And please, the truth."

Stokes smiled at her. Having so much support would surely help his patient recover quickly. "He's stable. His progress will be slow, but he'll get there. We're monitoring him closely, making sure he rests and isn't in pain. He can leave ICU shortly."

"And then what?" Trish caught her husband's gaze and nodded determinedly. They'd talked things over on their drive here and had decided to take Martin in if he needed a place to stay and recover. They'd welcome him with open arms and support him to their best ability. Martin Riggs was family and they took care of their own!

"He has to stay a few more days so we can monitor his progress. If he does well, we can discharge him. I need some information though. Does he live alone? Because, if he does, it's a problem. He'll need help. He won't be able to take care of himself for some weeks."

"Riggs lives alone," Roger informed the concerned doctor, glad that he could help. "Trish and I already discussed this. He can stay with us. We'll take care of him." The entire family would help out and look after Riggs.

"That's good to know. He doesn't strike me as someone who asks for support, but he'll need it," Stokes commented before his beeper went off.

"You have no idea," Roger said, almost rolling his eyes.

"Emergency," Stokes said after checking his message. "I have to go."

After Stokes left, the Murtaughs turned around and looked at Riggs through the window. Seeing his partner so motionless made Roger shiver. "Riggs is never still. He doesn't do still. Seeing him like that… Trish, it isn't right." He worried more than he'd thought possible.

"He'll recover," Trish said, eager to comfort her husband. "We'll see to that." They'd make sure Martin Riggs got back on his feet.

/

The next time he woke up, it was due to hearing someone talk again, but it wasn't the Murtaughs. Who was it this time? Martin flinched upon recognizing Ronnie's voice and finding his father in law close. Ronnie should be with his family, or at work, but not at his bedside. Keeping his eyes closed, he pretended he was still asleep. He didn't want to draw attention to his person. Maybe Ronnie would leave if he found him asleep.

"Ronnie, don't worry about it. My home is secure. I upgraded the security system and it now also covers the skylight. I doubt there'll be another assassination attempt on my life! Especially since we cracked the case and arrested Colonel Shepley. He was smuggling arms overseas and I didn't realize it until Bailey brought the report to my attention. He sent those Special Ops guys after me."

"Brooks, I'm happy you solved the case, but you need to make your personal security a priority."

"I just told you I did," Brooks' said, his tone revealing his frustration. "Let it go, my friend."

"For now," Ronnie reluctantly agreed.

Well, it was good to know they solved the case. His lower back hurt and Martin shifted slightly, trying to attain a more comfortable position, but that only resulted in more discomfort, as the pain in his abdomen doubled, which sucked. What also sucked was them picking up on hearing him groan and moving their chairs closer to the bed. Why couldn't the worrywarts leave him alone? The heart monitor spiked, alerting him that his guard was down. His Navy SEAL training had taught him better than that! And why did they have to keep monitoring him at any rate? The worst was behind him! They could cut him loose.

"Marty, we know you're awake. Don't try to fool us," Ronnie reprimanded him, as the heart monitor returned to a normal rhythm. "Please don't shut us out."

Damn him! Martin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, determined to ignore them, because then they'd leave – he hoped!

"Fine, if that's the way you want to play it, Marty."

Detecting a bemused chuckle in Ronnie's voice frustrated Martin. Why couldn't they let him be? Each time he woke up, someone was at his side! It was damn infuriating.

"He's quite stubborn," Brooks observed, having a fairly good idea what was going on in their patient's head. "Are you already fed up with the visits, Martin?" Realizing so many people cared about him, had to unsettle the veteran, who had worked hard to keep everyone at a distance. Realizing that they had found a way into his heart might be hard to accept.

"Yes," Martin admitted grumpily, than privately cursed because his captain had made him react. "Go away and tell the others to stop coming by the hospital. Nothing to see here."

"Why should I go away?" Brooks said, letting his amusement show. Martin wouldn't succeed in scaring them off so easily. "This is where I want to be and I'm sure the same thing goes for your father in law." Watching the play of emotions on Martin's face was revealing. The younger man really had no clue how to deal with the fact that people cared for him.

Ronnie nodded, approving Brooks' words. "You might not like it, or even agree, but you're family, Marty." He'd failed to get through to his son in law in the past, but now that he had a second chance, he refused to give in. Martin wouldn't succeed in shutting them out, not this time.

Realizing they were set on staying, Martin gave in. It was good to know his captain was doing well. He was happy that he'd saved the older man's life, but now he had to convince Avery that there was no debt, because he suspected the captain felt guilty. It was why Avery spent that much time at the hospital. "Don't you have cases to work? Bad guys to catch?"

"Oh, it speaks!" Brooks chuckled and pointedly ignored Martin's glare. "You're feeling better, aren't you?" Hearing Martin's grumpy tone raised his spirits.

Not physically, no. His body still hurt like hell, but his mind was much clearer. Martin could actually think rationally for the first time since they'd admitted him to hospital. "I mean it, cap, get out and leave me alone!"

"Sorry, can't do," Brooks replied truthfully. "I'm under orders to stay," he added teasingly. Martin's curiosity was obvious, but he waited for the younger man to act on it. Now that Riggs was alert, he needed to find a way to reach him. He'd managed to do so before.

"Whose orders?" Martin closely studied Avery, who was getting on his nerves.

"Doctor Stokes. He says I have a calming influence on you." Brooks chuckled at seeing Martin's stunned expression.

Martin blinked. What the hell? And then, he remembered… He recalled his earlier panic attack and wanting out of the bed, trying to pull out the endotracheal tube and the IV's. Avery had talked him out of it. Shame set in, hating himself for losing control in front of Avery. He'd done it again. "I'm sorry about that." Feeling embarrassed he pointedly stared at his hands resting on his abdomen. A heavily bandaged abdomen, as he only now noticed. Mayer had got him good. Slowly, Martin realized how seriously his wounds were, that he was actually bedridden and probably would be for considerable time. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't get to his feet and leave the hospital. He wouldn't even make it to the door. Fuck, in his current condition he couldn't even head for the bathroom to take a leak. It was a problem - a big problem.

Ronnie worried at seeing his son in law's expression darken. Had shock set in after all? "Marty, talk to me. What's going on in that head of yours?" It was best to nip this in the butt before Martin blew everything out of proportion.

Martin closed his eyes and allowed in the truth. This was serious. How the hell was he supposed to work like this or to take care of himself?

"Martin, what's the problem?" Brooks tried, since Ronnie's question went unanswered. "Come on, you can tell me." He exchanged his chair for the side of the bed, making sure Martin couldn't shut him out. "No matter what worries you, tell us. We can help."

Martin didn't know how to deal with the fact that both men worried about him to such an extent. Ronnie, as well as Avery seemingly refused to leave his side, no matter what he said. Maybe giving in would get them out of his hair? Looking at Ronnie was too difficult, reminding him of everything he'd lost, so he stared at Avery instead. "I can't work like this."

"No, you can't, and you shouldn't," Brooks said reassuringly, surprised that it would worry the younger man. Working should be the least of his concerns! That Martin chose to confide in him stunned him; why not tell Ronnie instead? But he went with it. "You're on sick leave. You need to rest."

Okay, he could rest. He still had the trailer, heal up there, and then go back to work. Now that he had a plan, Martin felt better. "When will they discharge me?" He needed to know what was going to happen and when, so he could prepare.

"We don't know yet." Brooks moved closer and made sure the Texan heard everything he said. "You're still at the ICU. They'll keep you at the hospital for several days. After that, you have options." He'd tried to put himself in Martin's situation and had maybe figured out what upset the injured man.

"Options?" What options? What the hell was Avery talking about? To him, it was very clear. He'd ask Roger to drive him to his trailer. He was realistic enough to realize he wouldn't be able to drive himself. After that, he was good. The couch was comfortable and maybe he could talk Trish into dropping off food supplies occasionally. The thing that worried him though was being there alone. The solitude would be welcome at first, but then slowly drive him insane. He'd turn to booze eventually.

"The Murtaughs would love to take you in. And so does Ronnie. As I said, you have options and people to stay with. You need help and shouldn't be alone," Brooks said, but Martin's expression warned him something was wrong.

"No," Martin stated determinedly. "Not happening." He closed his eyes as he was growing tired. "I'm heading for my trailer." Talking wore him down and arguing with them only made it worse. It showed once more how exhausted he was. He had to find a way to make them leave.

Ronnie caught Brooks' stunned look. Contrary to his friend, Ronnie wasn't surprised. He hadn't expected anything less from his stubborn son in law. It was time to push a little. "Why?" Something told him, that if he pressured Martin, the young man might let something slip. Martin wasn't up to his usual game. He didn't like doing this, but they might never find out otherwise.

Rationally, Martin knew he should stop talking, but his thoughts raced and being unable to think straight was setting him up for major trouble. He really should stop talking. He should keep quiet instead, but then he heard himself speak without realizing he was actually doing it. "Roger, Trish and the kids, they'll drive me mad. They're so fucking chipper and happy, and Ronnie, sorry, I can't… too many memories at your place. Being there hurts." Why couldn't he stop talking? What drugs did they have him on? Some sort of fucking truth serum?

"Don't worry about it, Marty, we'll figure it out." Ronnie stroked the scruffy hair and noticed his son in law quickly closing his eyes and putting up walls. That hurt, but he tried to hide it. He reminded himself that this was about Martin and what his son in law needed, not about him. He wasn't shutting him out on purpose. Martin's pain was real and too much to bear for one man alone. They'd help carry him it though. Martin wasn't alone.

"We have time," Brooks said, hoping to draw the attention away from Ronnie and to his person, as he could tell both men were hurting. "Why don't you go back to sleep, Martin? You're exhausting yourself." He monitored the heart monitor, catching spikes which were happening more frequently, telling him how drained Martin was.

Brooks' suggestion made sense and he closed his eyes, momentarily escaping his pain and drifting back into an uneasy sleep.

Ronnie waited until he was certain that his son in law was sound asleep. "I always forget how much Miranda's death still affects him," he admitted in a heavy voice. "He's right, staying with me won't work, It'll depress him," he admitted, though the truth continued to hurt.

Brooks wasn't sure staying at Roger's place was the best option either. He knew the Murtaughs well. Roger was like a brother to him, and Trish a good friend, but he could easily imagine them driving Martin insane by constantly hovering over him. "We have time to figure it out, Ronnie." They'd find a solution – eventually.

TBC

Part 15

Pissing blood into a urinal drove home how incapacitated he was. He was confined to bed and depended on the care the medical staff supplied. Earlier he'd tried getting to his feet and had spectacularly failed. Merely the attempt at raising his legs had sent a crippling pain into his abdomen. That second bullet had done immense damage, hitting a lot of soft tissue. Had it hit bone instead, he'd would probably be healing up faster.

Stokes had told him that he no longer needed to remain in the ICU and would be transferred today. He had to stay at the hospital though, as they still wanted to closely monitor him. The medical staff probably feared getting sued by the City Attorney in case he suffered a setback, he mused, amusement mixed in with frustration. The fact that Ronnie Delgado was his father in law made them cautious. Otherwise they would have long discharged him; he was sure of that. He couldn't recall ever staying longer than two days at a hospital. In Iraq they'd move you as quickly as possible.

Getting discharged didn't worry him exactly. He wanted out, but the thought of being stuck at the trailer for days with no distraction, no work, and no company was already driving him insane. Numbing the pain with booze wasn't an option either as it would interfere with his medication and alcohol did slow down the healing process. So no matter what, he was fucked.

Both Ronnie and Roger had offered to take him in, but he wasn't going to accept. At Ronnie's place memories would haunt him and fuck him up. At Roger's, the constant hovering would get onto his nerves, not to mention the cheerful attitude of the Murtaughs. That combination would drive him out of the house within hours. Not happening either. So what options did he have left? None. He'd end up at the trailer drinking and setting back his recovery.

A nurse checked his readings, supplied him with water and meds, which he dutifully swallowed before she left. He should remember to thank Ronnie for telling them to keep opiates away from him. He hadn't thanked his father in law yet.

Unwilling to move his head in order to look at the clock, since it would set off the pain in his shoulder, he raised his arm instead and checked his wristwatch. Only eight AM. They'd move him to his new room in the next ten minutes and then… Then what? Maybe he should get some more sleep. Maybe it would speed up his recovery? Nah, not a chance in hell. Wishful thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere.

/

At least the view improved with the new room, Martin noted detachedly. The place was also a lot quieter than the ICU where he'd had little privacy as everyone kept walking in and out of his room, checking on him. Stokes was updating the physician now in charge of his treatment and he was alone for the moment.

Strangely enough, he missed having company after a while. Ever since waking up after surgery someone had sat with him. Brooks mostly, but Ronnie had been there often too. He wished Brooks stopped feeling guilty though. Taking those bullets for his captain had been a conscious decision on his part. Avery shouldn't feel bad about it.

Now that he was alone, his thoughts ran in circles, driving him mad. Sleeping wasn't an option either, since he was very much awake, plus his nightmares would probably make a grand comeback and he could do without those, thank you very much. The fact that it was a sunny day only worsened his mood. It felt like life was mocking him.

"Martin Riggs?" Todd Doran entered the room and searched his patient's facial expression, easily identifying the pain there. He'd been under the impression they'd raised the pain medication before moving his patient. Maybe they'd miscalculated? He'd rectify that before leaving.

Glad to be distracted, he looked at the doctor entering the room. Stokes had told him to expect a visit from his new physician. "The one and only," he said, but hated the way his voice gave him away. It was dead, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't go back to faking his smile. Exhaustion did that.

"I'm doctor Doran. Doctor Stokes updated me about your history. You're incredibly lucky to be alive, detective." Martin Riggs intrigued him and he wanted to find out more about the man.

Not lucky in his book. Why hadn't death taken him? He'd been at peace with that thought. But no, instead, he had to deal with still being alive. Pushing that thought away, he focused on Doran. The guy was tall, maybe six foot one, tanned from sunbathing and athletically build. His hair, which was way longer than he'd expect a doctor to wear it, had been forced into a strange mix of a bun/ponytail. Alert, green eyes took him in and assessed him. "No offense, but you look like a surfer, not that much as a doctor."

Doran chuckled. "Yeah, they warned me about your sense of humor. You're not wrong though. I used to surf a lot, but not lately. Long hours, trying patients and a partner at home who also works exhausting hours." He approached the bed, checked the monitor his patient was hooked up to, and inspected the IV.

"Go surfing together," he suggested, glad to be able to focus on something else besides his own crap.

"We still do, but it's hard to find a moment we're both off work!" He quickly scanned his patient's file again, making sure he had the details right. Looked like he'd been correct; they'd had increased the pain medication before moving him, but apparently it hadn't been enough. Normally they'd depend on opiate related medication to regulate the patient's pain, but due to the restrictions, they were improvising. "So you went down protecting your captain? You took two bullets for him. Must be a special guy."

Martin decided he liked his new doc. "Well, he grows on you. Would hate to see him dead." Doran wanted to say something, but then reconsidered, which made Martin wonder what happened. "So what's the verdict? I'm gonna live?"

"Afraid so." Doran grinned rather smugly. "You won't die while in my care, I can guarantee that."

"We'll see. You know I'm trouble, right?" His mood brightened. Here was someone to banter with and it was exactly what he needed to get him out of his blue funk.

"Rather the opposite. Looks to me like you get people out of trouble," Doran whispered in a bemused tone. He definitely liked Martin Riggs.

That comment unbalanced him and he broke eye contact, returning to staring out of the window instead. Finding that dark rain clouds now obscured the sun pleased him. If Doran noticed his patient shutting him out, the doctor didn't react to it, for which Martin felt grateful.

"You should rest. You might not realize it yet, but the transfer tired you. Are you in pain? Do you want something to help you sleep?" Doran curiously wondered if his patients would tell him the truth or deny it. He'd been warned Martin Riggs would probably do the latter.

"No, I'm good." He wasn't, but getting addicted to sleeping meds or pain killers wasn't an option either. Better to man up and endure the pain, which would eventually pass. He pointedly looked out of the window, hoping Doran got the hint and left.

Doran felt conflicted. He didn't want to impose on his patient, but he wasn't going to pretend either. "You're in pain, Martin. I'll up the dose. That way you can also get more sleep."

"That's not necessary, doc," Martin objected. He was good. He'd dealt with much worse pain.

"Sorry, can't do. Hippocratic oath and all that," he said and winked.

Martin sighed, realizing Doran wouldn't be charmed. This guy was used to being in charge. "Knock yourself out." Or rather, knock him out.

"I'll be back in a sec. Don't go anywhere, detective," he joked, hoping it put his patient at ease.

"You're funny!" Martin quipped, trying to act chipper, but the moment Doran left the room, his eyes closed due to the pain. Why did it feel like someone repeatedly driving a knife into his abdomen? Fuck, it hurt.

"I'm back carrying gifts," Doran said, announcing his return. He'd seen the pain his patient was in when he'd stepped into the room and Martin hadn't noticed his return yet.

"That's not necessary," Martin insisted, but there was nothing he could do to stop Doran from injecting the medication into the IV. The effect was almost instant. A minute later, warmth crawled up his veins, making him sleepy, so very sleepy.

Satisfied that the medication proved effective, Doran smiled at his patient. That was much better! "I'll let you rest now, but I'll check on you later. It's good to finally meet you, Martin. It's nice to know the face that goes with the file." After watching his patient for a moment drift off, he whispered, "Thank you so much…" And suddenly his words failed him. This was the man who'd saved his partner. If it hadn't been for Martin Riggs, Brooks would be dead now. He could never repay Martin for what he'd done.

"What for?" The medication made him groggy. Martin yawned, carefully made himself more comfortable and failed to keep his eyes open. This was nice and he caught himself drifting off.

"Well, for saving Brooks' life, of course."

The medication made it hard on him to focus. Martin knew Doran was talking, but failed to catch the words. He smiled now that the pain was gone and he gave into exhaustion, falling asleep within seconds.

/

Strange, unidentifiable sounds caused him to wake him up and open his eyes. What was happening? Turning his head too fast brought the pain back to the surface, spiraling up from his shoulder and into his neck. He pushed down the discomfort and found Cruz sitting next to his bed, chewing on a pencil and reading. The young man produced the odd sounds by occasionally sucking on the pencil's tip. "Cruz?" Martin blinked, trying to clear his mind and managing to tune out most of the ache. Locking out physical pain was easy, it was the emotional turmoil he didn't know how to deal with.

"Detective! You're awake!" Pleased, Cruz grinned and looked him over.

"What are you doing here?" Martin never expected Cruz to visit. The fact that Cruz had joined their department after working a case with them, was still surprising. For some reason, Cruz liked him and Martin had tried hard to smoother that interest, but so far, without success.

"Making sure you're fine. The captain told us that you're getting better, but I had to see for myself." He'd witnessed the shooting from a distance and still recalled the way Riggs had gone down, laying in a pool of blood like a broken puppet. He'd needed to convince himself that the detective was over the hill. "Brought you some stuff," he said, pointing at magazines, books, and newspapers. If Riggs was anything like him when down, the other man needed distractions to keep him from brooding.

"Thanks," Martin whispered, feeling oddly touched. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off that particular feeling. Getting attached to Cruz wouldn't do them any good. Everything he touched blew up in his face. Everyone getting too close to him, died. It was best to keep his distance. "How are things at the precinct?" With Brooks spending so much time at the hospital, things might not run as smoothly as normally.

"Fine," Cruz reassured Riggs, easily identifying the emotions running through the other man. He might not look like it, but beneath the rough exterior, he cared. He was also good at reading people, another thing he didn't like to broadcast. And Martin Riggs was easy to read if you knew what you were looking for. "Captain's got everything under control." He grinned. "Did they tell you they arrested the suckers that sent him those body parts?"

"No." Martin stopped himself just in time from shaking his head. "They're under arrest?"

"Yeah, the captain ripped them a new one. Had them taken to his office and grilled them. You should have seen him. He was on fire!" The smile that surfaced on Riggs' face was genuine and Cruz was relieved to see it. He didn't like the dark cloud of depression hovering over the other man's head. "The City Attorney is prosecuting them."

Knowing Ronnie was on the case was good to hear. "And what about you, Cruz? Making any progress regarding Bailey?" Martin grinned at seeing Cruz grow flustered beneath his tattoos. "You can tell me!"

"She tolerates me these days. It's slow progress, but I'm hopeful." Cruz liked Bailey a lot and knew he had to earn her trust and respect first. He was okay with that. He was the same.

"Don't give up yet. You might succeed in the end," he encouraged Cruz. "So, tell me, any interesting cases I should know about?" Now that Cruz was here and talking, he planned on taking advantage of it, desperately needing the distraction.

TBC

Part 16

Martin was alone when he woke up next and it had grown dark outside. He blinked a few times to clear the remaining sleep from his eyes and realized he was still tired, even after sleeping the day away. Light coming from the corridor kept the room from being cloaked in complete darkness, which was a good thing. The door to his room opened and Doran stepped inside. Had the doctor been waiting for him to wake up? His arrival seemed too much of a coincidence!

"Ah, you're awake!" Todd moved closer to the bed, checked the readings, and adjusted the medication in the IV bag. "Your visitor wore you down," he stated, checking to see how alert his patient was. Still drowsy or already alert and functioning? One thing was for sure, Martin Riggs had an incredible tolerance for this kind of medication. He'd already raised the dosage several times. The fact that the young man didn't tolerate opiates made treatment challenging.

"Who? Cruz?" Martin failed to surpass a yawn, maybe he could talk Doran into giving him some coffee? Caffeine might help! "Nah, he talked and I listened." And promptly fell asleep, so maybe Doran was right. He wasn't going to admit that though. "What's the time?" For how long had he been asleep?

"It's nine PM," Todd read up on his chart and frowned. His patient had slept the day away and had only been awake during Cruz' visit. "You missed lunch and dinner. I'll have food brought and you'll eat, detective." It was his job to look after his patient, but he would do so anyway, considering what Martin had done for Brooks. It was the very reason why he'd asked to oversee Martin Riggs' recovery.

"Fine," Martin muttered beneath his breath, realizing he was hungry and could eat. As long as he stayed at the hospital he would abide to their rules. The medical staff could make his life hard if they got fed up with him and cooperating was in his best interest. He bore Doran checking on his bandages and probing the injured area, which took longer than necessary. Doran was being extraordinarily accurate and could have finished much sooner. And why was Doran doing this personally? Nurses usually did. Maybe the guy liked looking after his patients personally?

Satisfied to find everything in order, Todd smiled. Stokes had warned him that Martin was difficult, but so far, he was being a model patient. "Everything's fine. No sign of infection and you didn't pull any stitches." Todd covered him with the duvet and logged his findings in the chart. "I'm surprised. I expected you to be trouble," he admitted, hoping to get a conversation going. During the last few months Brooks had often told him Martin was loud and obnoxious, but all he saw was a man who was hurting both emotionally and physically. A man, who was surprisingly shy and the opposite of what he'd expected to find.

"Normally I am," Martin muttered and smiled warmly. Doran must have talked to either Avery or Murtaugh. "But I'm too tired to live up to my reputation." Martin hated admitting it. "Just wait till I'm back on my feet and my charming self again." Ignoring the pain shifting on the bed brought with it, he managed to move his shoulder in such a way that it relieved the pressure on it. He hated being incapacitated like this.

Todd noticed his patient's discomfort and checked the pain medication again. Unfortunately it was already at maximum. "I'm looking forward to finding out just how much trouble you are," he teased, hoping having company helped Martin distract himself from the discomfort. "Now, you have a visitor, but I'm not sure I should admit him past visiting hours. You slept the day away and admitted to still being tired, detective." Maybe he shouldn't enjoy playing these little mind games so much, but he had the feeling Martin could deal with the teasing, welcomed it even.

"Who is it?" Martin asked curiously, surprised that he was looking forward to actually having a visitor he could talk to. Maybe he was becoming used to having someone close and that was a bad thing, he realized. Once their concern stopped and people resumed their normal routines, he'd be alone again. It was best not to get used to this. He reckoned it was probably Roger or Trish checking up on him. They might try convincing him again to stay with them during his recovery.

"It's Brooks Avery. Do you want me to tell him to come back tomorrow?" Under normal circumstances he wouldn't allow visitors at this late hour, but Brooks knew how to handle Martin, so he'd okayed it. He'd complete faith in his lover's abilities to keep their patient under control.

Martin sighed in relief. "Nah, it's fine. Show him in. I'll talk to him." Dealing with Avery was doable. The older man respected his decisions and seldom pushed. However, the captain might push this time around, he realized. Avery might have a problem with him staying at his trailer. Avery knew about Ronnie's and Roger's offer to let him stay at their places. He had to remain steadfast and tell the older man no. He nodded at Doran, telling his doc that he was ready to face the music. Doran smiled warmly, throwing Riggs momentarily.

"I'll get him. And eat dinner when it arrives!" He'd check!

"Will do," Martin confirmed and closed his eyes the moment Doran left the room. What the hell was wrong with him that a simple conversation left him drained?

A nurse brought him dinner and waited for him to start eating it before she left. Although he wasn't particularly hungry, he continued eating, knowing he needed the energy if his body wanted to fix itself. He managed most of it and then sipped from his water. Thankfully Mayer had hit the same shoulder the arrow had struck. At least, now he could move one arm without too much discomfort. The food made him drowsy though.

"Martin, it's good to see you again! Sorry for visiting at this late hour, but it was busy at the precinct today." Brooks directly headed for the bed and pulled up a chair, smiling at their stubborn patient. After seating himself, he noticed, "You look better," which pleased him, recalling the bad way Martin had been in right after surgery.

"I'm okay, cap," Martin assured him before growing quiet again. He wasn't sure what to say or do. Why did Brooks continue to check up on him that often? "Cruz was here earlier and told me about some interesting cases. Maybe I can help?" That way he'd still be somewhat useful instead of lying in bed all day.

Brooks' initial reaction was to tell Martin off, but then he reconsidered. Keeping mentally busy might stop him from brooding. "Want me to send some paperwork your way? Really? Can you even type?" he teased.

He hated paperwork, but at least it was work and would keep him busy. "I can try." Realizing that he was still part of the team helped. Avery wanted him involved. "Is Rog still moping because I don't want to move in?" It was said half in jest, half in earnest. He didn't want to lose one of the few friends he had and the Murtaughs meant a lot to him.

"Oh, yes, and he'll be back shortly trying to convince you again," Avery said, continuing the bantering. Which reminded him of the reason why he was here in the first place. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with Ronnie either?" Before making an offer of his own, he had to make sure Martin hadn't reconsidered.

"Not happening," Martin confirmed. He averted his gaze, staring at the wall and unable to look Avery in the eye. Opening up wasn't something he usually did, but something about his captain made him feel comfortable and in a strange way, safe. "There are too many memories at Ronnie's place. Miranda and I spent a lot of time there and Ronnie keeps a lot of pictures around. Pictures of both of us, wedding pictures too. I can't deal with that." Cahill would be proud of him, opening up like that. He made things hard on her, not on purpose, but because he didn't want to burden her with his crap. It was different with Avery, but he didn't understand why.

"I can imagine that's difficult to bear," Brooks admitted readily. Martin really had a lot to deal with and staying with Ronnie wouldn't help, that much was true. He believed his detective. That was why he was here. "How about a third option?" he said, carefully testing the waters.

Martin quickly caught on, relieved the cap felt the same way. "The trailer? Yeah, that's my first choice too." Brooks or Roger could drive him there, stock up on his food supply and maybe check occasionally. If he played this right, thinks might work out. "It has everything I need."

"I checked on your trailer earlier today," Brooks revealed, feeling bad for invading Martin's privacy, but he had to know how the man lived. If the trailer had been accommodating he might have given in and let Martin recover there, but as it turned out, the trailer didn't even house a comfortable bed, which had eased his decision.

Seeing his startled look, Brooks quickly soothed the younger man. "Hey, don't worry, you cleaned up! It wasn't the mess I expected to find. But I also didn't find an acceptable bed. Sorry, but your trailer isn't an option." It was true; he'd expected the trailer to look much worse. The large supply of booze he'd happened upon worried him though, showing how often Martin turned to alcohol for comfort. Martin wasn't holing up in there! He wouldn't have it.

Confused, Martin frowned. If the trailer wasn't an option than what was Avery talking about? "I don't get it, cap," he admitted, feeling confused.

Seeing Martin's confusion, Brooks smiled reassuringly. Yes, he was doing the right thing. Even though he was rather sure Martin was going to decline, he was determined to try. "I talked it over with Todd and we would love to take you in while you need help. You know your way around my place. One can say you already left your mark on it, given the bullet hole in my wall. Yes, the guestroom is on the first floor and we know you can't climb stairs yet. Todd's study however is downstairs, so we'll move things around and make it work as a guestroom for you to stay in. We work mad hours, that much is true, but we'll figure it out." Ronnie, Roger, Trish, Bailey and Cruz also wanted to help. They could create a rotation plan.

The way Martin cringed and instantly shook his head, told Brooks the injured man wasn't giving in yet. Which was okay as he expected Martin to put up a fight first. He was well prepared for any arguments Martin might come up with to veto their plan.

"Can't do that either," Martin objected, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't want to invade your privacy and Todd has no idea what he's getting himself into. I'll drive the two of you insane and I don't want to be responsible for wrecking your relationship." The mere thought of burdening a stranger made him ill at ease. He couldn't possibly accept.

Actually, Brooks had expected Martin to protest more fiercely. This was rather tame and told him how drained the younger man was. Time for round two. He wasn't giving in, no matter how many rounds they went. In the end, Martin would agree. "Todd actually suggested it. Don't worry about him. He's a good guy." Seeing Martin wasn't swayed yet, he added, "You saved my life twice, Martin, and Todd appreciates that. He wants to help."

"Still, cap, no." Martin refused to take up their time like that. "The trailer is fine. The couch is way more comfortable than it looks." He knew only too well what a terrible houseguest he made and would greatly inconvenience them.

Telling himself to be patient and while counting to ten, backwards, he said, "My name is Brooks, please use it, Martin." He'd made that offer before and repeated it. "Todd and I want to do this. You ARE welcome, Martin. More than welcome, actually. Come on, say yes."

Martin shook his head, but his resolve was weakening. "I can't accept, cap." He couldn't give into them. He knew he was trouble with a capital T.

"It's Brooks, remember?"

Martin dramatically sighed, losing his patience. "You're stubborn and bossy, I don't like you anymore." He was being perfectly reasonable and had to keep them from making a huge mistake.

"I'm not," Brooks countered. "I'm caring and adorable." As he had hoped, it made Martin chuckle. "It's you, who's stubborn. Please think it over before making a final decision. Don't dismiss us yet. Let us do this, Martin. It's like I told you that day in the morgue. You can't force people to stop carrying about you, remember that?" Martin's expression told him he did – good.

Martin caved under the pressure and gave in for the moment. "Fine, I'll think it over." He had to get Brooks off his back. Giving a little now, would accomplish that. Later, he would tell him no again.

"That's all I'm asking for." Brooks got to his feet again. "I'm heading home. Todd is about to get off his shift and it's been a while since we spend some time together. By the way, he thinks I should leave the bullet hole in place. Says it adds charm to the place." Todd's reaction hadn't been that cheerful at first. His partner had choked up, realizing how close he'd come to losing him. But Martin didn't need to know that.

"Sounds like a great idea," Martin whispered, growing increasingly tired. This conversation had drained him further and he had little reserves to begin with. Hoping Brooks got the hint, he added, "Enjoy your evening, captain."

"Not captain. It's Brooks. Let me hear you say it, Martin." If necessary he could play dirty. "And then I'll leave so you can get some rest." He realized their conversation drained Martin, and to his shame, he had to admit he'd done that on purpose; hoping exhaustion would make Martin see things his way.

Another sigh escaped his lips. Knowing that by giving in he got out easier, he relented. "Don't keep your partner waiting, Brooks." Saying the name felt wrong and made him uncomfortable, telling him he was letting Avery in against better judgment. He'd limit using it to a minimum.

"I knew you could do it, Martin." Brooks winked at him and headed for the doorway. "I'll drop by tomorrow to find out what you decided. Think it over first!" Hopefully Martin took his offer seriously; at least he hadn't dismissed it right away, as Brooks was convinced his plan could work.

"Will do," Martin muttered, hoping it would get Brooks off his back. His visitor didn't completely close the door behind him and he picked up on soft whispers drifting into his room coming from the corridor. Avery and Doran were talking, but he couldn't make out the words. The doctor was probably updating Avery on his condition. Martin made himself as comfortable as possible considering his injuries and closed his eyes. All this talking had worn him down and he decided to let go. He'd would tell Avery no again tomorrow.

/

Getting his wounds cleaned and bandaged again turned out to be exhausting, but needed to be done. Martin spent the rest of his morning in peace, dozing and looking out of the window. By now, he was well enough to be discharged and why they kept him around was a mystery. He wasn't complaining though – not yet.

At noon, Ronnie called, wanting to know how he was doing. After assuring his father in law he was doing okay and reclining the offer to stay at the Delgada homestead again, he grew restless. The phone call had disturbed his peace of mind and he started worrying again.

Thankfully Roger called, and after bantering with his partner he felt a bit more grounded. He still had a hard time accepting just how many people worried about him. Miranda had hinted at that in his dream, but he hadn't quite believed her at the time. What if she was right? What if he still had work to do here?

In the afternoon, surprisingly enough Bailey showed up, bringing donuts and a fruit basket. The donuts turned out to be from the guys at the department and the fruit basket hers. They talked about the current cases for a while, and he once more welcomed the distraction. Martin felt oddly disappointed when she left.

It seemed that since visiting restrictions were lifted, more and more people found their way into his room and he wasn't sure what to think of that. A part of him liked the company and attention he got, another warned him not to get used to it as it would stop at some point. It had always happened in the past, so why would this be any different? Yet, in his heart he craved the company and affection. Whatever happened, he would end up hurt.

TBC

Part 17

At five PM the sun started to set and he was getting ready to settle down for an early night. It wasn't like he had anything else to do.

"Evening, are you up for another visitor or are you tired, Riggs?"

Hearing Cahill's voice pulled him from his slumber. He opened his eyes and found her hovering near the doorway, waiting for him to answer her. Of course she had to catch him off guard and sleepy – at the worst possible moment. He didn't tell her no though. "You can come in, but don't interrogate me when I'm down, doc." He wasn't in the mood for a session. In his current condition he'd let too much slip. He had to be careful when talking to her and watch himself carefully.

"I'm here as a friend, not your therapist," she told him, having noticed the rising apprehension, which seemed to deflate after her reassurance. Of course he felt vulnerable, confined to bed, hurting and still relying on pain killers, which took off the edge. She wasn't going to take advantage of his current state. She seated herself near the foot end of the bed, watching him closely. The expression in his eyes reassured her. She didn't know how, but he was dealing with his current situation. Being supported by so many helped, she figured, after hearing about the constant stream of visitors. At first, she hadn't been certain he would allow anyone in, but Brooks had assured her that Riggs wasn't shutting them out. Which was a huge step in the right direction as far as she was concerned. She felt proud of him for doing that. It had to be hard on him, she knew that, and yet, he didn't shy away from it. "How are you doing?"

"Body's not cooperating yet, mind's rebelling too," he quipped, trying to hide feeling vulnerable. Her question seemed innocent, but she could easily twist it anyway she wanted. Experience had taught him to never underestimate her. "They're taking great care of me, I have to admit that. I'll be back on your couch soon. Then you can grill me and give me that grating smile again." Even though she would see behind the façade he was putting up, he was still doing it. It was a hard habit to break and luckily for him, she knew that.

Maureen carefully considered her response, reminding herself she was here as a friend and not in her capacity as his psychologist. Sometimes it was hard to step outside that particular role. "You did something incredibly brave. It was also utterly stupid, but I'm glad Brooks is alive and that you pulled through as well."

Martin's unease made a comeback and he averted his gaze. "It wasn't anything special." He wished people would stop telling him that. He'd done his job, nothing more, nothing less.

She knew he believed that. Riggs had saved her life too, never hesitating to protect her and keep her safe. She owed him a lot. "Are you giving the medical staff here a hard time too?" She winked at him, and he relaxed further now that she made it clear she wasn't here as his shrink. He needed friends instead.

"You won't believe it, but I'm actually well-behaved! I'm cooperating and haven't heard anyone complain!" And he wasn't lying!

She'd checked with the nurse earlier and she had told her the same thing. Riggs was a model patient, which she'd felt hard to believe, but talking to him now, she realized it was the truth. He was on his best behavior, which surprised, but pleased her. It also made her wonder about the change; what had caused this development?

"I'm waiting for them to discharge me though," he continued, confiding in her because he'd grown used to it and she hadn't let him down yet. He'd started to trust her. "And..." Suddenly he hesitated, unsure to continue.

"And what?" She recognized a troubled Riggs when she saw one, and he was deeply troubled at the moment. "What's the problem? Don't you want to be discharged? You don't even like hospitals," she reminded him, trying to figure out what was going on in that complicated head of his. She'd treated a large number of complex patients, but Riggs presented her with her biggest challenge. Her heart had gone out to him from the very start, and after he saved her life, she walked a fine line between being his therapist and a good friend. So far, she managed though. She still vividly recalled his breakdown after sending him to a new therapist because their professional relationship had been compromised. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Martin Riggs had suffered too many breakdowns already.

"The problem?"Martin broke off eye contact and fidgeted with the comforter, as his nervousness needed a way out. "Roger's offended I turned him down, but I can't stay with the Murtaughs. We would drive each other insane. You understand that, don't you?" She nodded and he smiled gratefully. Talking about the Murtaughs was easy, compared to addressing his father in law, but he tried anyway. "And Ronnie? I can't stay with the Delgados either. You know why." Hopefully she understood what he was trying to say.

"I understand." She nodded, letting him know that declining those offers was fine. He had every right to do so. "But you can't stay on your own either." Having him cooped up at that trailer would make things worse. He already battled his demons on a daily basis and being stuck there in his current condition would cause a rapid decline. She couldn't allow that either.

"Avery…" Martin wavered and almost reconsidered; should he tell her or not? He did value her opinion and maybe she could help him figure out what he wanted.

"What about Brooks?" She opted to use his first name on purpose, since this was a private matter, unrelated to work.

"He invited me into his home. Says Todd's fine with it and that I should stay with them until I'm back on my feet," he told her, still wondering if confiding in her was the right thing to do.

His emotions were all over his face, telling her a lot. Smiling, she tried to reassure him that staying with Brooks and Todd was a good thing. Maybe all he needed was a little push. "I like that idea. Staying with them will do you good. They're a nice couple." The look he gave her was curious. "What?"

"You know Todd? What is he like?"

Ah, so the problem wasn't staying with Brooks. Todd was the unknown factor making Riggs uncomfortable. She could help with that and ease his worries. "Todd's a great guy. You'll like him. He's the least of your worries, trust me." His expression changed and told her he was actually considering accepting. That thrilled her. "You'll like staying with them," she repeated, hoping to convince him to give this a shot.

"Maybe." Her reaction wasn't what he'd expected and puzzled him. She seemed to think that staying with them would be good for him. He wasn't that sure, but he did trust her judgment. Maybe he should consider the offer in earnest. He would keep a low profile, giving them their privacy, and leave the moment he was able to walk unaided. Yeah, that might work.

Maureen watched Riggs going through the motions and smiled. She had faith he would make the right decision.

/

"I'm back as promised." Brooks carefully looked Martin over. "You look rested." His detective seemed to be recovering nicely, which pleased him. "You got a moment?" It was late, already ten PM, but today had been hectic as meetings had lasted forever. Having to attend them was the one thing he disliked about his job. He preferred action instead. "I can come back tomorrow if you're tired. After all, it's late."

Martin wondered why Brooks hadn't simply called instead of visiting him in person. "No, that isn't necessary. I'm much too awake to sleep." He'd made the mistake to sleep in-between visits and now he wasn't sleepy at all.

Avery nodded and headed for the bed, where he remained standing near the foot end. "I heard you had a busy day." Maureen had mentioned visiting with Martin and letting it slip that their patient was giving staying with them some serious thought. She'd even suggested he put on a little pressure and push Martin to make a decision.

"Yeah, lots of people checking up on me." Feeling shy, he pointedly avoided eye contact. He stopped himself from fidgeting with the IV-port still stuck in the back of his hand. They'd freed him from the drips today, but wanted to keep the port just in case. He'd dealt with worse and didn't mind.

"That's good, isn't?" Martin was nervous, but why? Did it mean he was going to give staying with them a shot? He doubted Martin would worry about declining the offer, but he would fidget when accepting it.

"Maybe, don't know." Martin quickly moved his hands beneath the duvet to stop himself from messing with the needle. He hadn't been exactly aware of what he was doing. He'd just tried to keep his mind off their conversation.

Brooks wasn't sure what to do, but followed his gut instinct, telling him to be direct about it. "Did you make up your mind about staying with Todd and I?" He hoped Martins would accept. If he didn't, things would get complicated.

"They're going to discharge me tomorrow." Martin opted for part of the truth. Doran, when he had started his shift earlier that evening, had told him that they'd only discharge him if he had support at home. When he'd remained quiet, the doctor had raised an eyebrow at him, but hadn't pushed.

"That's good news!" Brooks waited patiently for Martin to tell him the rest as well. He knew this was hard on the young man. Martin was used to handling everything on his own and the realization that he needed help was hard to accept for it meant he had to let people in. People who might get close to him and that prospect might scare Martin.

"I can't stay on my own at the trailer. Doran threatened to keep me here if I stayed there alone." The doctor had been quite vehement about that.

Brooks grinned. "You'd get into trouble with me too if you stayed there on your own."

Sighing, Martins decided to get this over and done with. Stalling wouldn't get him discharged and he wanted out. Staying at the hospital was getting on his nerves! "Fine! I'll stay with you. But don't fuss over me or make a big deal out of it!" he said, frustration getting the better of him. They had him cornered and they knew it!

"We'll try, but might fail," Brooks quipped, finally succeeding in making the younger man look at him. He welcomed the eye contact, which lasted a few seconds before Martin averted his gaze, obviously ill at ease for having accepted.

Martin remained quiet, unsure how to react. Brooks looked pleased, ecstatic even, which was crazy. "You do realize how much trouble you're getting yourself into? I'm a hellish houseguest. Just ask Rog! You're going to regret taking me in." And that was his biggest worry – them dumping him the moment he became a burden. He didn't want to be one in the first place, but the mere fact that he needed help would inconvenience them.

"I doubt that very much, Martin. We know what we're getting ourselves into and we're heading in with eyes wide open." Brooks read between the lines, easily recognizing Martin's apprehension. "Todd finishes early tomorrow, so we'll pick you up around noon." Moving Martin with the two of them would be easier than on his own. "Is it okay if I swing by your trailer and pick up clothes and other necessities?"

"Sure." Martin closed his eyes and shifted carefully, acquiring a position which put less pressure on his back. He doubted Brooks knew what he was getting himself into; he even needed help to get to the bathroom for crying out loud!

"Ronnie might drop by in the morning," he told Martin, thinking it best to warn him. "He cares, you know. You might give him a call every now and then to reassure him you're fine." Finding Martin's eyes closing and deep lines of discomfort appearing on the man's brow, told him it was time to go and let their patient rest. "Martin, I'll see you tomorrow, don't worry, Todd and I got this. Leave this to us. All you need to do is to get some sleep. You look exhausted."

Yeah, Brooks was right; he suddenly felt drained, which was odd. He'd been good a moment ago. "Tell Todd I'm sorry for invading your home like that." He still worried about burdening them.

"Todd doesn't mind," Brooks said reassuringly and gently squeezed Martin's shoulder, offering the touch starved man some much needed reassurance. "Don't worry about it! Things will sort themselves out. Do you really think we'd take you in if we didn't want to? It was Todd's idea all along. You have no idea how grateful he is. You saved the man he loves, don't forget that."

"You're mushy," Martin complained goodheartedly, unaccustomed to his captain talking to him in such a way. "Now get out and let me sleep. I need my beauty sleep these days!" He failed at opening his eyes again as his fatigue worsened. The fact that he couldn't stay awake for long was maddening. Why did he always nod off in the midst of a conversation?

"Yes, you do," Brooks said, playing along. "Sleep tight, Martin. I'll see you tomorrow." The fact that Martin had accepted thrilled him. He hadn't been sure offering was the right thing to do, but Todd had insisted he pushed Martin a little harder. Todd had been convinced Martin would accept in the end and it turned out his partner had been right.

"Night, cap," Martin whispered, drifting off into sleep.

"Is he asleep?" Todd stepped into the room and studied his patient. "He's doing good," he told his lover. "It might take him some time to get back into shape, but he'll get there. And then he'll drive you mad again, blowing up buildings, jumping from roofs and wrecking one police car after another." He wrapped an arm around Brooks and pulled him close. "To be honest, I expected him to be a much worse patient, but he hasn't fought me once. You were much worse when I treated you back then."

Brooks leaned into his lover and smiled. "Just wait till he's back on his feet. Then you'll reconsider." He turned in the embrace and smiled. "Todd Doran, you know I love you, don't you?"

"I do," Todd readily admitted. "And I love you too."

/

He was way more anxious than he wanted anyone to know, but he wasn't sure he was fooling anyone. Brooks and Todd would pick him up in a few minutes and he still wasn't sure he'd made the right call. But he doubted they'd let him get away with declining after all.

Ronnie stepping into his room merely deepened Martin's frustration. Last night, Brooks had mentioned the upcoming visit, but he wasn't in the mood for it.

"Morning, son!" Ronnie smiled at finding Martin awake and glaring at him. "You must feel better if you're able to give me that look. Don't worry, I won't be long." He placed the weekend bag next to the bed and decided against sitting down, as he didn't want to aggravate his son in law. Today would be taxing for the normally so private Texan. "Brooks and Todd are already on their way over here. They'll take care of you. You made the right decision, Marty." Hearing Martin was staying with them had settled his nerves. He'd worried Martin would hole up in his trailer instead and then matters would have quickly deteriorated.

Cautiously looking at his father in law, he tried to gauge Ronnie's reaction. "No hard feelings about that?" Martin hoped he hadn't hurt Ronnie's feelings by rejecting the offer to stay at the Delgado home.

"No, Marty, I understand. I know why you made that decision and I'm okay with it. For what it's worth, I believe you made the right call. Staying with Todd and Brooks will help." Being at his home would have constantly reminded Martin of his loss, he realized that. "You left some things at the house and I packed them. It's clothes mostly, shoes, socks, stuff like that and you might need them." Brooks had called earlier. His friend had been collecting Martin's belongings at the trailer – which wasn't much and had inquired if there were still some of Martin's things at the Delgado house, stating Martin might need them. Ronnie had been shocked to learn how little Martin owned. "Just let me know if you need anything else. I want to help." He doubted money was an issue though – it was mostly Martin systematically neglecting his needs.

"Thanks, Ronnie," Martin said, wrestling with emotions that were too close to the surface.

"I'll visit in a few days. You need a chance to settle down first." Ronnie briefly wrapped his fingers around Martin's hand and rubbed soothingly. "Don't be a stranger and give me a call."

"I will." Ronnie was right; he should keep in touch, even though he didn't really want to. He'd forgotten that he wasn't the only one hurting here. Ronnie lost his daughter and grandson and he should keep that in mind. Maybe he could let Ronnie in – just a little.

/

"You can't be serious." Martin growled at seeing a nurse leaving a wheelchair at his bedside. "I'm not using that contraction. I'll walk out of here." After Ronnie had left a nurse had helped him slip into some sweats. By the time they were done, he'd been exhausted and utterly embarrassed that it had taken them thirty minutes to put those clothes on him. But it had been complicated – and painful, though he'd tried hiding that. "Not happening," he said and pointed at the wheelchair, its mere presence offended him.

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice in the matter, Martin. It's official hospital policy," Todd stated, enjoying the furious expression on his patient's face. It was a good thing to see Martin putting up a fight for it meant the young man felt stronger.

Martin frowned at seeing Doran out of his typical white doctor coat. Instead, he wore jeans, a blue shirt and green jacket. "Looks like an off day to me, doc. What are you doing here when you're not working?" He glared at the wheelchair for good measure, but then concentrated on Doran again. "Or did you miss me, your model patient? I've been good, you know!" Up until they brought in the wheelchair, that was. "Did they call you in to get rid of me?" Doran's grin caused him to chuckle in turn. Being honest with himself, he admitted he'd miss the guy. Doran had been an okay doc, he'd had worse.

"I'm here to take you home, Martin." Todd frowned; Brooks had told Martin about that, hadn't he? "Or did Brooks forget to mention me tagging along? He's a scatterbrain at times," he whispered conspiringly and grinned.

"Did I forget what?" Upon stepping into the room, Brooks exchanged a puzzled look with his lover and noticed Todd's frown. "What's wrong?" Was Martin already complicating things? Had his cooperation been a mere ruse? But he found that hard to believe. Martin knew he had to stay with them; the alternative was remaining at the hospital.

Confused, Martin wondered what the hell was going on. Doran and Brooks acted weird. Why was Doran on first name bases with his captain? "Either one of you better start explaining." Or he was going to throw a little tantrum, showing them exactly how well-behaved he'd been up until now.

"You did tell him I was coming along, didn't you, Brooks?" Seeing the disbelief on Martin's face, Todd finally caught on. Had they ever told Martin he was Brooks' partner? Martin only knew him as Doran and he'd never fully introduced himself to his patient. Had Brooks forgotten to tell Martin they were together? It was possible and probably exactly what had happened.

"Oh," Brooks eventually realized his mistake as well. "I forgot about that." It was best to rectify that now. He knew Martin liked Doran, so realizing he was Todd might not be a problem, but he couldn't be sure. "Martin, meet Todd Doran, my life partner." The expression in those brown eyes easily gave away Martin's surprise. Focusing on Todd again, he asked, "You didn't discuss it with him either?"

"Brooks, it never came up! I assumed you'd told him!" But he couldn't be angry with his lover. Not when he faced losing Brooks on a daily basis because of his job. Those attempts on his partner's life had reminded Todd just how dangerous being a LAPD captain was. Every day he prayed Brooks returned home safely. So he wasn't getting upset about something this minor. "Sorry we didn't make sure you knew what was going on," he addressed Martin. "Our mistake. I hope it doesn't change matters." He didn't think it would. Martin and he got along just fine.

Martin pointed a finger at Doran. "You are Todd?" His mind spun, having trouble understanding what was going on. Doctor Doran was Brooks' partner?

"Yeah, I'm Todd," he confirmed, giving his patient a moment to sort it out. "Todd Doran," he added, smiling warmly. "Your new, temporary roommate."

Martin suddenly understood. "That's why you acted so weird that first day, thanking me for saving his life." It all made sense now. It also showed he wasn't up to his usual game.

"And we're still not done discussing that, Martin." Last night, Brooks had had a nightmare in which Mayer had shot Riggs all over again, but this time, killing him. "But we'll do that later. First we need to get you home."

"Let us do the work," Todd told his patient, who gave him a puzzled look. "We know what we're doing. Just cooperate."

Todd and Brooks guided him into the wheelchair, and he let them, still processing the fact that he'd worried over nothing. Apparently, he was already getting along with Todd, while he'd been worried about infringing upon the other man's privacy. But damn it, they should have told him who Doran was! He hadn't yet forgiven them for that oversight. At least, he believed them when they said they hadn't forgotten to tell him on purpose. He did believe it was an oversight.

"Martin, are you all right?" Brooks didn't know the Texan this quiet and wondered if it meant trouble. Martin did let him push the wheelchair without protest, so he was under the impression they were good.

"I guess this surprised him," Todd remarked, slightly amused. "We should use it to our advantage." If he'd known his patient worried, he would have talked to him before. He picked up the weekend bag and followed them toward the elevators.

"Before he becomes trouble again," Brooks confirmed, privately admitting he looked forward to the day his detective returned to his charming self. He hadn't thought it possible but he missed Martin causing problems.

"Exactly!" Todd winked at his partner and then checked on his patient, who still looked taken aback. "We moved the guestroom downstairs since you can't climb stairs yet. You'll be comfortable there."

Martin frowned, suddenly fully realizing what was happening. They were taking him in – giving him a temporary home - and seemed set on helping him recover. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion and finding it hard to express himself.

"You're welcome," Brooks assured the younger man as they wheeled him into the parking lot. "Take it easy and let us do the work, remember?"

Martin nodded and cooperated when Todd situated him on the back seat of Brooks' car, securing the safety belt. Todd then sat down next to him, wrapped an arm around him, and kept him in place while Brooks drove them home. Sometime during the car ride, he fell asleep and when he woke up, he was in a bed. Looking about he recognized some of the furniture. They hadn't been kidding when they said they'd moved the guestroom downstairs. He also realized some of his stuff from the trailer was now inside the room. Miranda's picture stood on the nightstand and she smiled at him, seemingly approving she'd been moved. Seeing the picture took him aback, as he hadn't thought Brooks would bring it with him. It was good to have her with him.

"How are you doing?" Brooks moved his chair closer to the bed and sat down. "You fell asleep during the ride and didn't wake up when we put you to bed, so we let you sleep. Todd warned me that moving you might exhaust you." He noticed the way Martin stared at the picture frame and was glad he'd brought it along. He'd hoped that being surrounded by familiar things would soothe his guest.

"I'm fine," Martin acknowledged after composing himself and carefully elbowed himself into a seating position. He reclined into the pillows and told himself to man up and look Brooks in the eye. "Why are you doing this?" He had to know.

"I told you before," he started and didn't mind repeating it. "We care about you. We like you," Brooks explained patiently. "We want you here." Accepting and believing that would take Martin time and that was fine with him. He'd give Martin the time he needed. "Todd's cooking dinner. I hope you like chicken Parmesan," he said, fully aware of the younger man's fondness of said dish.

"Not sure I can eat," Martin admitted. His stomach wasn't behaving.

"Try to get some rest first and then we'll see how it goes." Brooks got to his feet and tucked the duvet around Martin, ignoring his guest's glare. Martin had better get used to being cared for! "We want you here. Remember that, and now get some sleep. You're not alone, Martin."

Tears formed in his eyes, and embarrassed, Martin quickly wiped at them. "Sorry," he started apologizing, but Brooks stopped him.

"No need to apologize for anything, Martin. Give it time." Realizing his guest needed a moment to collect himself, Brooks got to his feet and headed for the doorway. "I'll let you know when dinner's ready. It'll probably take another twenty minutes, during which you should rest."

"Thanks," Martin whispered, emotion making it hard for him to swallow. He'd never expected Brooks to care this much about him.

"You're welcome," Brooks repeated and smiled fondly. Martin Riggs might look lost, but Brooks had hope. Everything would work out in the end, he was convinced it would.

Epilogue

Todd soundlessly stepped into the temporary guestroom. Moving his stuff upstairs hadn't been a problem and something he'd suggested right away. Martin was dozing, his eyes not quite closed and he'd pulled the duvet partly across his face, as if hiding himself. Before they'd agreed to take the young man on, Brooks had told him Martin's history, including bits and pieces regarding his traumatic childhood. During his medical career he'd happened upon many survivors, and although he wasn't a professional councilor, he had some experience treating them.

Martin Riggs showed several, typical characteristics, he realized. The Texan was in his late twenties and still hadn't dealt with all that trauma. Losing his wife and child had eventually made him snap, which was very understandable. Ronnie Delgado had tried to help. Martin's father in law had tried to support Martin, but there was too much pain involved. Todd hoped that Brooks and he might succeed where Ronnie had failed.

"Hey, Todd." The fact that someone was staring at him set off his inner alarm and woke him up. Realizing it was only Todd he calmed down. Now that his injuries limited him, memories of his father kicking him when he was already down threatened to resurface. For now, he managed to keep them at bay, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could manage. The subconscious was a powerful thing, often taking control when he was asleep or not paying attention. The flashbacks he suffered during the day were the worst, especially when he was working a job and froze. He hoped Roger hadn't noticed.

"Hello, Martin." Todd walked over to the bed, but remained at a distance, not wanting to spook their guest. "Are you hungry? Dinner's ready, so if you want to eat…" Using the wheelchair would be best, but he wasn't sure Martin would let him. Being independent was important to his patient and Todd got it. Martin was used to taking care of himself, even when wounded or down.

"I can eat," Martin admitted, realizing he had to eat at some point and the smells coming from the kitchen made his stomach growl.

"Is it okay if we use the wheelchair to get you to the kitchen?" Todd wanted Martin to have a choice; maybe that would make things easier on the younger man. "You shouldn't be walking about that much yet." He'd okayed short trips to the bathroom, but that was already pushing it. Martin's expression told him no, but then his patient frowned and nodded slowly.

"That would be the best thing to do." Martin hated relying on help, or being reduced to using a wheelchair, but it was the sensible thing to do. He didn't want to set back his recovery or make Todd practically carry him into the kitchen.

Todd managed to hide his surprise. He'd expected Martin to put up a fight instead. "Good choice," he said and moved the wheelchair closer. "It's only temporary. You should be able to walk about in a week or two, but right now you need to be careful and take things slow."

Rationally Martin knew that, but still, accepting Todd's help was hard on him. Taking care of himself was deeply ingrained on him. Letting Todd care for him was hard.

Todd moved the comforter out of the way and assisted Martin with sliding into the wheelchair. He reminded himself to check on his patient's wounds before getting Martin ready for bed later. If Martin had pulled any stitches he would take care of the matter. "Are you comfortable?"

"Sure, I'm fine." He'd been through much worse; this was nothing. Todd needn't worry about him. "So, Brooks hinted chicken Parmesan is on tonight's menu?" Martin frowned upon realizing how quickly he'd grown used to calling his captain Brooks. He'd have to watch that, in public especially.

"Yeah, since it's your favorite, we made it." Todd wheeled Martin into the kitchen and placed him at the head of the kitchen table. "Not sure it's the best we ever made. Brooks is a steak guy and I like salads." He carefully kept in mind how strange it had to be for Martin to suddenly be a part of their household. He reminded himself to go slow and not overdo it in his enthusiasm.

"Ah, there you are!" Brooks noticed their guest seemed relaxed and accepting of his situation. Things could have been much worse; he knew from personal experience that Martin didn't handle change well. Being here and depending on them was hard on the younger man. "No wine tonight, I'm afraid," he said, as he put the chicken Parmesan in front of Martin. "Grape juice has to do."

Martin glared at the offending liquid. "Grape juice? Seriously?" The no alcohol thing made sense, but fucking grape juice?

Todd chuckled warmly and nipped from his glass. "Hey, Brooks is making me have grape juice too!" They'd decided to forgo alcohol all together. They didn't want to tempt their guest and even more importantly, they wanted him to feel included.

"You having some too, cap?" Martin realized Brooks' 'wine' looked way more like grape juice too. Why were they doing this?

"Yeah, can't let the two of gather ammunition against me!" They'd harass him all evening if he was the only one having wine. "Dig in, you must be hungry, Martin." He grinned and hoped his chicken Parmesan was acceptable.

Martin picked up the fork and started eating, noticing his left shoulder still hampered him. Moving his right arm was no problem though, so he made it work. "It's fine," he muttered distractedly.

"That's huge praise coming from you," Brooks teased in return. Martin tended to be honest, and wasn't one to praise him just in order to get into his favor.

Realizing he could have phrased that differently made Martin cringe. He wasn't up to his usual game and it showed. He stayed quiet; that way he couldn't make things worse.

Seeing their houseguest depressed didn't surprise Todd. Such a reaction was normal regarding the situation Martin was in. Getting accustomed to living with them took time.

/

"That isn't necessary. Everything's fine," Martin protested. Todd wanted to inspect the gunshot wounds and reapply the bandages. As far as Martin was concerned, that wasn't necessary. Having Todd take care of him at home felt different from doctor Doran looking after him at the hospital. There, it has been his job as a professional to look after his patient. Here, it felt like imposing on the other man's personal time.

"Hah, there's the difficult patient Todd warned me about. Are you going to be trouble after all, Martin?" Todd was ready and set, waiting for Martin to come around. He wasn't going to proceed without his patient's permission though. Putting Martin in charge of his recovery was important. "Look at it this way; the better care we take of your injuries, the faster you heal, which means getting back to your feet." Martin wasn't his first challenging patient and he'd experience dealing with them.

Todd didn't play fair, Martin decided and sighed. "Okay, but keep the prodding to a minimum." Brooks was cleaning up the kitchen and Todd looking after him; it was time they could have spend together instead and he was taking that precious time away from them.

"You know the drill," Todd announced, pleased that Martin had changed his mind. "This doesn't have to take long or to be painful." Which reminded him, Martin appeared to be doing well, but had to be in pain still. He'd see to it that their guest had a comfortable and relatively pain free night.

Relenting, Martin cooperated while Todd removed his sweater. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but did lay down and let Todd check on his wounds.

Todd cut through the bandages and removed them. Keeping his touch professional, he probed the damaged area. "It's healing up nice. No sign of infection. You're doing good." But that was just superficial. He worried about the soft tissue damage, which would take more time to heal. And then there was the psychological damage as well. Well, he reminded himself, he had to do this one step at a time. "Can you sit up for me?" He assisted Martin in sitting upright and quickly bandaged the shoulder again. After taking care of the abdominal wound as well, he helped his patient to lie down and get comfortable again. He searched Martin's eyes and easily spotted the pain in them. He hated doing this to the younger man, but he needed to take care of those injuries. "I'm going to give you something against the pain, which will also help you sleep." Seeing Martin wanted to protest again, he resolutely shook his head. "You're still my patient, Martin. " He'd made it a condition for Martin's release from the hospital. "I'm still in charge of your treatment plan, and we're doing this, yes?" Again, Martin allowing him to do this was important, but he wouldn't leave before having taken away most of his patient's pain.

Martin realized the choice he was being given and it made him open up – just a little. "You've got to understand," he started hesitantly. "I don't want to get addicted to the stuff. I have a hard enough time as it is to stay away from booze."

Todd hadn't expected such sincerity and knew how special it was for Martin to tell him something so personal. He vowed to never betray that trust. "I understand your worries," he reassured his patient, "and if it helps, I'll monitor you closely. But there's no reason for you to be in pain during recovery. Can you trust me a little here? I promise to look out for you and I have your best interest in mind."

Martin dodged Todd's gaze and stared at the wall instead. He did trust Todd – a little, but that was already quite an accomplishment, and he was willing to deepen that trust. It only took time for him to wrap his mind around the fact that Todd was sincere. "Okay," he whispered eventually. "As long as you know what you're doing, I'll trust your judgment."

"Thanks, Martin. I know that can't be easy." Todd reached for the pain killers which he had stacked in the cupboard before his patient had arrived. He removed two of them, and offered them to Martin, along with some bottled water. Correctly reading the other man's expression, he nodded, and added, "They're safe to take. They'll ease your pain and help you fall asleep."

Martin muttered something inaudible beneath his breath, making him smile. Seeing his patient obediently swallow the medication, eased some of Todd's worries. At least now Martin wouldn't suffer in silence for the rest of the night. He'd be comfortable instead. "Are you all set for the night? Anything you need before I turn in too?" He placed some bottled water next to the bed, within easy reach and pulled up the duvet. He'd decided against putting Martin in pajamas, as the sweats were just fine and he didn't want to add to the young man's pain.

"I'm good," Martin acknowledged, closing his eyes tiredly. Today had been taxing, which was crazy, as he'd hardly done a thing.

Todd walked over to the doorway and wanted to switch off the lights, when he reconsidered. Brooks had told him about Martin leaving a light on during the night. He switched on the bedside lamp, but killed the ceiling light, which was much too bright for Martin to sleep comfortably. "If you don't mind, I'll keep the bedside lamp on," he told Martin, who gave him a tired, yet thankful look. "That way, it's easier to check on you during the night."

Martin felt grateful that he didn't have to ask Todd to keep a light on. This way, his problem solved itself. "Fine with me," he whispered, making himself a bit more comfortable now that the pain in his abdomen and shoulder was receding.

"Night, Martin, sweet dreams. Brooks and I'll check on you during the night, so don't worry if you hear us moving about." Todd could very well imagine Martin freaking out at hearing someone sneak about.

"Night," Martin whispered, quickly drifting off now that the medication started to work. Hopefully his nightmares would leave him alone tonight.

/

Brooks was reading and looked up when Todd entered their bedroom. "How's our guest doing?" He placed the book aside and gave his partner his full attention – also because Todd was getting ready for bed and liked to sleep in the nude. A strip tease was always welcome.

"Stop leering, captain Avery!" he joked and grinned at his lover. They'd been a couple for four years now and he liked the way things were between them – nice and easy. He slipped between the sheets and wrapped Brooks up in his arms, holding on tight. "You weren't kidding when you told me about his issues. It's a miracle he functions the way he does. For the moment, he's good. He should sleep peacefully."

"If his nightmares leave him alone," Brooks warned. "I do want to check on him during the night." He was a night sleeper by nature and counted on his instincts to wake him regularly.

/

Brooks wasn't sure what had woken him, but he moved out of Todd's arms and ignored his partner's displeased grunt. He got to his feet, stepped into the corridor and headed downstairs to check on their guest. Now that he descended the staircase, he grew increasingly aware of the noise coming from the guestroom. Hoping Martin might get a night of undisturbed sleep had probably been wishful thinking.

Looking into the room, Brooks found Martin wrapped up in his duvet, delicately balancing on the edge of the bed. He'd pulled the back of his sweater over his head, which made catching his expression nearly impossible. He was struggling, his arms tightly wrapped around his chest and muttering softly. Yeah, definitely looked like a nightmare and it was time to intervene.

"Hey, Martin, wake up for me. You're too close to the edge of the bed and you don't want to take a fall. Martin, listen to me, I need you to wake up." He'd started at a low volume, but talked louder toward the end. "Martin, wake up for me!" He kept his distance though, remaining near the foot end, as he didn't want to trigger a violent response.

Martin's reaction was instant. He sat up and stared ahead, still drowning in his memories. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, but his father still loomed over him, ready to kick him in the gut and punch him in the face. "Dad, stop!" Panting hard, he tried to rid himself of the memory, but he still remembered the pain he'd been in just before Jake had shot his dad. There had been murder in Nathan Riggs' eyes.

Hearing the soft cry for help explained a lot. So it was Nathan Riggs haunting his son's dreams. That didn't surprise him. Brooks cautiously made his way over to the bed, but didn't attempt touching Martin yet. "Martin, are you with me? Do you know where you are? Hey, talk to me." Seeing that particular look in Martin's eyes worried him. Did Martin even know where he was? It didn't look like it. "Martin, it's me, Brooks." Maybe hearing his name helped.

The voice was all wrong. It wasn't his father screaming at him. It was someone else. Slowly, the flashback faded and Martin wondered where the hell he was. He wasn't in his trailer, so where was he?

"Martin? Can you hear me? It's Brooks, you know me." Those brown eyes slowly regained lucidity and he judged it safe to sit down on the side of the bed. It was a good thing Martin didn't have his gun with him. "That was one hell of a nightmare," he said softly. "At least you're awake now."

Martin blinked again, swallowed hard at finding his throat chocked up with emotion and managed a nod. Yeah, a nightmare. It was only a fucking nightmare, but it still felt incredibly real. He'd been back there, at their home, on the hard floor with his father towering over him and beating the hell out of him. But it wasn't Nathan Riggs in the room with him now. It was Brooks. "Sorry," he whispered, realizing he'd made a fool out of himself again. "I'm good now."

"No, you aren't. Not after a nightmare like that. It's okay, you know. I get them too." He did, occasionally, but never this intense. "I always need a moment afterwards too." Maybe Martin wouldn't feel so bad if he knew everything was okay. "The last one featured Mayer and this time he shot you in the head."

Mayer? Ah yes, the Special Ops guy that had tried to kill Brooks and had shot him instead. And his captain had nightmares about that? He frowned, what was happening?

"Here, maybe some water will help settle your nerves." Martin looked like he was ready to bolt.

Martin fumbled with the bottled water, which Brooks handed him, but eventually managed to uncap it. Slowly, he sipped from it. The water helped, as he concentrated on the taste and feel of it.

Martin's brow was covered in cold sweat and his hands shook violently, letting Brooks know the storm wasn't over yet. If only he'd get Martin to open up about the abuse. Cahill had let slip that Riggs hardly told her a thing, so he didn't think he had much of a chance either, but he had to try. "What was yours about?" He'd shared, now it was Martin's turn, at least, he hoped it worked that way.

Had Brooks actually asked him that? Martin felt at a loss. He couldn't tell his boss what had happened to him as a kid! But then he remembered something Cahill had said; that talking about it helped and that he should try to connect with the living. He peeked at Brooks, recalling another piece of advice she'd given him, namely that only other people could ease his pain. But could he actually do this? Could he tell Brooks about his childhood?

"Come on," Brooks said encouragingly, "try me, Todd says I'm a good listener." It looked like this could go either way; Martin might confide in him, or push him away. Reading the expression on the young man's face was nearly impossible. Martin's hand, which rested on the mattress in between them twitched, like it had that day in the hospital. Brooks never consciously made the decision to take that hand in his – he just went ahead and did it.

Martin's breath caught; he couldn't believe Brooks had done that. But warm fingers wrapped around his and rubbed soothingly. It felt good; he felt accepted. He had no idea what that was about, but the touch completely outdid him. And he started talking, telling Brooks things he'd never wanted to say aloud. "The nightmare was about my old man. He wasn't an easy man to be around." He swallowed nervously. "He was an aggressive drunk. He somewhat behaved himself while my mother was still alive, but after she killed herself things got way worse."

Brooks moved closer and nodded encouragingly while maintaining his hold on Martin's hand, ever so gently stroking its back. "Go on." Martin had to get this out, so he was just going to listen for now. He felt honored that Martin trusted him enough to confide in him. Brooks couldn't possibly imagine how hard this was on his friend.

"He liked beating me up, sometimes because I'd done something wrong, but mostly for no reason at all. He has massive hands…" Martin fought the pull of the past; he didn't want to recall those details, not now. "One evening, it got really bad. I'll never forget the look in his eyes. He was mad. I knew he wasn't going to stop that day. He'd keep punching and kicking me until I was dead and…" He shouldn't be telling Brooks this. There was so much shame involved.

"What happened?" Brooks cradled Martin's hand in-between his, turning it upward and running his thumb up and down its palm. Martin avoided eye contact and he respected that; telling him was an incredibly brave thing to do. Brooks was very much aware that the adult had made way for a young boy, a broken child who was reaching out in the hope of finally being heard.

"I was okay with it," Martin reluctantly admitted. "I was okay with dying, with him ending it. I wasn't even fighting back. I was so fucking done; I couldn't do it anymore. Pretending everything was fine when social workers showed up and then, the moment the door closed behind them, he'd come at me because I'd looked at them the wrong way. I wanted him to end it and then…" In the back of his mind Martin realized what was happening, but now that the floodgates had opened, he couldn't stop. "And then Jake, a friend of mine, showed up from nowhere and shot my dad."

Brooks recalled reading about the incident. Jake Voss had gone to jail because of that and it was also the very reason Martin was still alive today. He understood how that that evening continued to haunt Martin. No child should have to experience something like that. Your father wanting to kill you was traumatic on its own, but Martin had also lost his mother prior to that, and then there had been the physical abuse as well. No wonder he'd ended up broken at such a young age. What was he to say? How could he possibly comfort Martin? "I'm glad you survived," he offered eventually. "I'm glad you're alive and that you're a part of my life."

Martin quickly wiped at the tears sliding down his cheeks. Fuck, now he was even crying! "Sorry," he started, wanting to apologize for burdening Brooks with his personal crap.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Martin. There's no need to apologize. Thank you for telling me." He suspected Martin had never done so before. He would check with Cahill tomorrow. And Nathan Riggs had better stay away, because Brooks wasn't sure he'd hold back if he ever met the bastard. "I understand why you're having nightmares about your father. After everything you went through, you're actually doing great." Yeah, Martin Riggs had turned out fine and was nothing like his father. Wow, where had that realization suddenly come from? Brooks finally got it. Understood way more than Martin had wanted to let slip. "You turned out great, Martin. You're a good cop and an even better man. I'm proud to call you a friend." More tears formed in those soulful eyes, and this time, Martin forgot to wipe them away. At that point, Brooks wasn't even sure the younger man realized he was crying.

"It's true," Brooks said reassuringly when Martin tried to object. "You're one of the best cops I've ever known. You saved countless lives in the few months you have been on the team. Remember young Oscar Alvaraz? You were willing to lay down your life to save that little boy. And when Roger tripped that booby trap? You didn't hesitate and saved him. Or Palmer when they wanted to gun her down. You make a difference, Martin. Whether you believe it or not, you are a force of good on this earth. And yes, LA definitely needs you. Cruz needs you," he chuckled, bemused. "You're his hero. You are the reason he transferred to Robbery and Homicide."

Technically speaking, everything Brooks said was true, but Martin didn't think it was that simple. "You're making me into something I'm not. I was just doing my job."

"It's more than that, Martin. The only reason I'm still alive today is because of you. Give yourself some credit. In spite of what your father did to you, you turned out just fine. He didn't corrupt you, don't you dare even think that, young man!"

Martin closed his eyes, giving up on holding back and cried, letting his tears flow freely for the first time ever. He'd never wept before – not for that lost, little, innocent boy still living inside him. Brooks… He didn't know what it was about the older man, but something Brooks said had changed him.

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but come here," Brooks whispered, as he gently pulled Martin into his arms, embracing him and holding him as tightly as his injuries allowed. "When Todd and I first got together I wasn't into the whole hugging thing, but he got me hooked on it, so relax. It's just a hug." Martin had tensed against him, which made sense. He'd probably shocked the younger man, who wasn't used to casual touch and certainly not being affectionately hugged by another male. Martin's father had destroyed that trust at a very young age and Brooks wasn't sure he could undo the damage, but he could try!

"It feels weird," Martin whispered, squirming a little, since he didn't know how to deal with the close contact. "Miranda was a hugger, but…" That was different. Getting hugs from a women wasn't a big deal, but Brooks was a guy.

In other circumstances Brooks might have assumed it was because he was gay, but that had never been an issue with Martin. No, this was about much more basic stuff. This was about a young boy growing up without affection, without touch, without love, and Brooks' heart bled because of that.

"It always does at first. It gets better the more you practice," Brooks hinted, and chuckled softly before lowering Martin back into his nest of pillows. "Better?" Martin finally made eye contact and yes, Brooks was under the impression the hug had helped.

Martin felt odd. He couldn't put the feeling into words though. "I think so, yes," he admitted eventually. Brooks had gone back to holding his hand again, and strangely enough, it made him feel better.

"I'll stay until you're asleep again," Brooks said decisively. "Just try to remember that you're safe with me." He shifted on the bed until he could rest his back against the headboard and made himself a bit more comfortable. "Do you want me to get Todd so he can give you something to go back to sleep?"

"Not necessary," he told Brooks. Whatever was going on had him relaxed. "I'm fine." He wasn't sure he could sleep, but he did close his eyes, and unwillingly focused on Brooks holding his hand. How could a simple touch mean that much to him? Someone holding his hand like that… The last one to touch him affectionately had been Miranda. And before that maybe Molly, but that had happened ages ago. "Thanks," he whispered, not sure what exactly he was thanking Brooks for.

"You're welcome, Martin. Now get some rest. I'm here and you're safe," he repeated, knowing the younger man needed to hear it again.

Martin never realized it, but he quickly dozed off and this time his dreams were peaceful.

Brooks waited another ten minutes to make sure Martin was truly asleep before placing his friend's hand gently on the mattress. He smoothed some unruly hair away from Martin's face and smiled. Yeah, he definitely had parental feelings for this young man.

"Hey, you did amazing," Todd whispered once Brooks joined him in the corridor. "Ever thought of changing careers and becoming a therapist instead?" He wrapped an arm around his lover and hugged him close.

Brooks smiled at his partner's suggestion. "Not really. I like being a cop. I don't think I'm cut out to be a therapist." He returned the hug and kissed Todd's brow.

"Seriously though, you're good at it," Todd stated while guiding Brooks back to their bedroom. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to gain the trust of someone who's been through that much abuse? You know I work with all kinds of patients and reaching them is hard, especially if there's trauma involved and Martin Riggs is truly traumatized. Yet, he trusts you. I doubt he lets anyone get that close to him – not Murtaugh and my guess is, he keeps Cahill at a distance too. Kids like that choose someone they trust, or they stay walled up forever. Murtaugh may be his partner and Cahill his shrink, but that broken little boy hiding beneath Riggs' boisterous façade, chose you."

In his heart Brooks knew Todd was right, but the development also worried him. What if he failed to live up to Martin's expectations? "What if I screw up? I don't want to let him down." He knew the fallout would be terrible.

"Everything's possible, but I don't think you need to worry about that. Martin picked you for a reason. Kids like that have great instincts. Martin knows what he's doing even if he's not aware of it." Todd pulled Brooks into bed with him. "Think you can sleep?"

"Not sure," Brooks admitted as he moved into his partner's arms. His senses were still on high alert, listening for anything that might indicate Martin needed him.

"Maybe we should get a baby phone," Todd suggested, more in earnest than fun. "That way we can keep monitor him."

"Maybe we should," Brooks said, giving the thought some serious thought. "Hum, so we're parents after all."

"You're the mum," Todd joked, grinning smugly. "I'm the dad!"

Brooks shook his head and silenced his partner with a kiss. "We're both the dads, and now shut up. You need to get some sleep. You're working tomorrow."

"And you're not?"

Brooks smiled. Yeah, he was working, but didn't have to show up until ten. He could afford to lose a little sleep, but Todd had to be sharp. A patient's life might depend on it. "Go to sleep, baby."

"Ah, you're fighting dirty. Don't baby me!" Todd snuggled up to his lover and closed his eyes. "Sweet dreams, Brooks."

"Sleep tight, love," Brooks said, holding his lover closer, watching over them both; Todd and Martin.

The end


End file.
